


Hanging from a thread

by Myrsky



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awesome Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Child Neglect, F/F, F/M, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Red Room, Soulmates, Soulmates can feel a pull coming from the wrist of the other, Soulmates joined by their wrists, Tony Stark Feels, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, that's how they know who is the other and where to find them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:46:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4365320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrsky/pseuds/Myrsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has never felt the pull and he feels completely different from all the others... </p><p>Peggy has never felt more confused than the first time she lays her eyes on him but she can quickly see how different he is from all the others.</p><p>Tony, however, he has never felt his bond coming alive. It has always been the same. It's not... comforting, as everyone says it should.</p><p>Natasha... She has never felt more terrified than the first time she felt her soulmate coming closer... could her mission be... him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucky

He is ten and Stevie is nine the first time he dares to ask. They are staying at his home because Steve's mother is working for the night, so they are playing a card game and he is spectacularly losing because he can't focus at all in the game, his head completely filled up with other thoughts.

“How does it feel, Steve? The bond?” He whispers hurriedly, not wanting Steve to see how worried he is.

“I don't really know. I can feel it sometimes, Buck.” says Steve, looking up at Bucky, worry filling his eyes because everyone, no matter how young they are, know how unnatural is that someone can't feel the bond “I mean, it's not always but... there's always something _there_...” Steve gestures to his left arm, fingertips running up his own skin “I just can't explain it, I don't know how to do it. I don't have words for it. I'm just... sorry, Buck.”

“It's fine...” he murmurs, playing the highest card and making Stevie whine, because he didn't want to lose.

He doesn't ask again and he allows the conversation to slip away into other topics, seeing how uncomfortable Steve is. Everyone is, really, when he asks how the bond feels and why he hasn't felt it yet. According to what he has gathered, the pull is the purest feeling in the world. The feeling behind every other feeling.

Everyone has a soulmate, don't they? It's not like Bucky has chosen not to have it, not to feel it. That would be monstrous, but he hasn't. Not at all. He is dying to feel that pull, to finally bond to his soulmate and... just get that feeling, okay?

He is not so old, right?

Perhaps tomorrow he will feel the pull. He falls asleep next to Steve, looking at his wrist and wondering, not for the first time, whether he is broken.

–

He is seventeen.

He works some hours on weekends at the bar in front of his apartment, in Brooklyn, to help his mother pay the rent. It's a small, shifty locale. She isn't that happy to allow him to work at a place like that, where only grown up men and women of _a less than perfect reputation_ go, but he is the oldest of her four kids and the only guy. He is expected to help. And so he does.

He earns some money, but above everything else, he gets information.

It's not easy to get normal people talking about their bonds, no matter the place or the time, not without their soulmates present. However, he knows that this is the perfect space for him to ask, every ounce of his logic dictates that if they are _here_ of all places is because they don't have a soulmate to come home to.

He hears things. He has heard a man talking about his dead wife, how his wrist pulls him to the cemetery. How he wishes to be reunited with her. That unsettled him, not so much because of the dead partner but because... he doesn't feel anything.

Now he can be sure that his soulmate isn't dead, it's just that they... don't exist.

There is this woman, one of the shadiest women in the whole district if you were to believe the rumours. Everyone says she is a witch. She is old, very old. Way older than Bucky's mother, he is sure. She must be almost sixty. He doesn't know her name but she comes every night and she orders a bottle of whisky. She doesn't drink much, though, she mostly sits in the corner of the bar and people comes and goes around her, like moths against a flame. She never moves but she is never alone. Watching her is fascinating. It is terrifying. He has never come close before, because he knows that Steve would shout at him for getting involved with supernatural forces.

He can't resist it, though. Not today, when the bar is almost completely empty and he is bored to tears.

She stares at him, her eyes devoid of all emotion. He has never felt more vulnerable than he feels now under her gaze. “You have a deep wound that refuses to get stitched. You are bleeding out, aren't you, sweetheart?”

“I have never felt a pull.” It's a confession that he makes. She takes the bottle of whisky that she ordered tonight and she pours a drink, but only to push it towards Bucky.

“To the broken ones.” she whispers as Bucky drinks the shot, his throat seemingly on fire for the first time in his life. He had never drank anything before but, in that same moment, he kind of regrets not having done it before. The liquor streaming into his system makes up for the feeling he lacks.

–

He is twenty.

It's soulmates' day and he is all suited up because his sister just got engaged to her soulmate. The guy is just three years older than his sister, but they will wait until her twenty-first birthday to get married. It's a formal occasion, nevertheless, because they are announcing publicly that a bond is cherished and will be completed soon. There is a war starting in Europe and everyone needs a reason to celebrate stuff.

His twelve years old sister has met her sweetheart a couple of years ago. He is a ten years old boy who lives in New Jersey and his parents are upper class, so he could travel to follow his bond. They exchange letters, twice a month.

His eight years old sister has just felt the pull for the first time... and their mother is just delighted. All of her kids are complete. It's then when he knows for sure that he will never be able to tell her that he has never felt it.

Steve is with him at the party and it's perhaps the only reason why he hasn't hidden in a corner. It's fun how Steve makes him bolder, how Steve grounds him. Sickly, skinny, small Steve, who loves with all his heart and talks so sweetly about how he imagines the person on the other side of his bond to be. Steve, the guy who draws androgynous faces instead of princesses, one day with soft brown curls, another day with deep brown eyes, the other with an impossible hairdo of spiky blond hair, but always with a kind smile and a certain light into their eyes. He simply wants to hug Steve, for sticking with him and loving him whereas everyone else would be... horrified.

“Maybe you are just... too strong to feel the pull, or your soulmate is very far away. It's not like the pull is that hard. It's... barely there, most of the times.” Steve whispers, noticing the pain in his eyes.

He smiles sadly and nods, wrapping an arm around Steve's shoulders and kissing the side of his head. Steve means well. It doesn't hurt any less, but he would never snap out on Stevie on this matter.

For all he knows, Steve could be right.

–

He is twenty three and he has just held Steve through Sarah's funeral.

He has also lost all his hopes in finding his soulmate, visiting the cemetery hasn't exactly helped. Either they aren't born yet or... he simply hasn't got a soulmate.

He has never felt it... and he is beginning to hope he _never_ does. What could he possibly do with someone twenty three years younger than him? If they are a woman, anyone would think of him as the grandfather of his children, by the time they are born... and even if his soulmate was a man... by the time they were an adult, he'd already be ancient. His best years would be gone.

He has started to think about something else, though. Because he has _feelings_. He has friends. He could have more... m aybe it would not be like the pull, but he is still human and there are other people who have lost their soulmates.

The funeral shows him how fleeting life is and that, perhaps, he should stop worrying about it all. It will happen or it won't but... he has _things_ going on in his life. This skinny kid in front of him needs protection and he's gonna do _just_ that.

“I'm with you 'till the end of line, pal.” He says, placing a hand over Steve's shoulder.

–

He is twenty four and his number has been drafted. He has to go to join the army and go to Europe. He has to tell Steve that he has decided to join the lines to defend the good ol' States or else Steve would try to find a reason to allow him to stay home.

Lying to Steve is not any better, because now he wants to join the fight as well. Steve. The essence of good is in him, of course he wants a better world. Of course he would fight and put everyone else's safety above his own. Like he has, right now, fighting that brute.

… fighting. Steve's style is really more of getting hit and bruised than laying a punch on anyone.

He has never been more glad to know that Steve would never be accepted into the Army.

“You've been sorted?”

“The 107th.” He says with pride, because he knows how much that means to Steve “Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”

Steve looks at him and sighs sadly before looking at his side, trying to find an exit from the alley “I should be going.”

He wraps an arm around Steve to stop him from going anywhere “Come on, man. I should get you cleaned up.”

“Where are we going?” Steve looks at him, his face showing a mix of emotions that he can't really understand.

“The future.”

–

Steve has walked away from his date, trying to get himself recruited again, but leaving him alone with these two women. The problem is, he doesn't really want to be with them, not more than Steve wants, even if his mouth tries to prove it wrong:

“I don't see what's the problem here. You are about to be the most eligible man in New York, with 3 and a half million women.”

“I'd settle just for one.” Steve's smile is soft, and he has never felt more depressed by not having a soulmate than now. He simply can't understand...

–

He's shipped to England, next morning.

The battlefield is so different from what he had expected. There is a lot of people going around the camp, there are a lot of shattered souls. Somehow, he belongs here more than he ever belonged to Brooklyn. He shares the barracks with a couple of guys like him and there are a few who have lost their soulmate.

Stories of love and loses are told by the firelight, bonding over their experiences, learning to trust their comrades.

It's... easy. They are all equal here, in the field.

–

When they were taken, he hoped they would give them a quick death. Things never work out as you want them to be, he is learning. It's not like he ever was an optimist, but this...

“Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven.” He mutters, as soon as he feels someone coming through the door, barely conscious enough to speak.

“Bucky? Oh, my God.”

“Is that...” He opens his eyes, looking at the beefy blond in front of him. He squints, not really understanding what he sees. It's not... but... it sounded like...

The blond talks, distracting him from his thoughts “It's me. It's Steve.”

“Steve?” He almost raises a hand, wanting to touch Steve to believe that he is not hallucinating again. The things he was injected with, he has seen so many things that weren't true...

“Come on.” Steve pulls from him, hands placed in the exact same places they always did.

“Steve.”

“I thought you were dead.” Steve turns to him, pulling him closer. God. Steve is huge now.

“I thought you were smaller.” He mutters, unable to stop himself.

Steve smiles, pressing Bucky to walk even if he is looking at a map on the wall “Come on!”

“What happened to you?”

“I joined the Army.” Steve answers proudly. Just as he should because he had always wanted to join the Army... but there is something else. Something he shouldn't probably ask here if he doesn't want to break down.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, allowing some more of his weight to be carried by Steve.

Steve looks at him, exactly like he was reading how much the experiments on himself had hurt and comparing it to his own before answering. “A little.”

“Is it permanent?”

“So far!” Steve grins, regaining his humour. Even if now Steve is bigger... his smile is just the same, which is perfect. Because it's Steve, his Stevie, his oldest friend who has saved him. Not a nameless soldier, not a forgettable face. No. It's... Steve. Even if he has changed.

–

He is drinking on his own, not wanting to get mixed between the others as Steve is trying to convince him to join his special forces' team. It's not like they need any convincing, they are eager to get back to Hydra.

“See? I told you. They're all idiots.”

Steve smiles, settling a drink in front of him “How about you? You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?”

“Hell, no.” He snorts, taking a sip of the drink and enjoying the burn, even if it's not the same since he came back. Things don't feel the same and he doesn't know what is wrong in him. Something keeps being the same, though “That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I'm following him.” He pauses, trying to make the lump go down his throat before he starts to cry “But you're keeping the outfit, right?”

“You know what? It's kind of growing on me.” That makes him smile, so happy to have his friend back.

“Captain.” A feminine voice says, making him turn towards the door.

“Agent Carter.” Steve smiles and suddenly everything makes sense. All the changes he had picked up... Steve has found her. Steve's soulmate. Strong and determined, just like Steve. Beautiful, so darned beautiful.

“Ma'am.” He stutters, looking at her with a teasing, evaluating, testing her response to him.

… and she ignores him thoroughly , which makes him want to jump out of his seat and hug Steve, because he is so lucky “Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good.” Steve answers, their eyes locked together and carrying some kind of silent conversation. He hasn't been gone for so long... right? Steve hasn't got time to gain that level of intimacy... unless it's something that comes with the bond. Though, it's good, just so good to see Steve smiling like this.

She looks at Bucky and at the other side of the room before talking to Steve again, her voice more amused than judgemental. “I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

“You don't like music?” He asks, even if he knows that the answer won't be for him.

“I do, actually.” She doesn't look at him for more than a spare second before locking her eyes with Steve again, like they were picking up on a previous conversation, her eyes shining because her smile really reaches them “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” He teases, just to see what she'd answer.

“The right partner.” And it's that what makes it, because it's a sentence that he has heard a thousand times coming from Steve. “0800, Captain.” She says, turning to leave.

“Yes, ma'am. I'll be there.” Steve answers, managing to look slightly chastised, even if he didn't do anything wrong. God knows what sweet Steve may be thinking, to look flushed.

“I'm invisible.” Bucky mutters, looking alternatively at Peggy who just left and to Steve “I'm turning into you!” It almost sounds like an accusation, before he cracks a smile because he is not bitter at all. He's just so happy for Steve. “It's like a horrible dream.”

“Don't take it so hard.” Steve smiles, changing his adoring looks for amusement and placing one of his _new_ huge hands on his shoulder “Maybe she's got a friend.”

–

Fighting next to Steve is different. He has his brother back, even if it's not the same. And the Howling Commandos are like another family. Maybe slightly dysfunctional but never broken.

And there is Peggy. They have barely talked, but whenever they did... she knows everything about him. Steve and her... they talk on a different level. It's... he is jealous, okay? He wants to feel like this too.

But if he can't... he will protect Steve, with his life if needed, because Steve needs to live _this_ with her. Steve has to have a choice to create a family... or to do something as simple as going dancing with her, when the war is over. Bless the world with their presence and maybe a kid or two.

He'd die to give Steve a chance to make his dreams come true.

–

“Bucky! Hang on! Grab my hand!” Steve is hanging from the side of the train and the bar is bobbing up and down dangerously. Bucky is scared. They both are frightened to death... but he lets go. Because he promised himself he would.

He looks at Steve before the white engulfs him, and then the black numbness washes over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this will be 4 or 5 chapters long, depends on how inspired I feel. It's my first soulmates' fic and I hope it's not too horrible... and that the timelines actually make sense.


	2. Peggy I

Her left wrist has always filled her with some soft sentiment of warmth and she wants to trust the person at the other side of the thread. She really wants to, but at the same time she can see the pain that her mother is going through, suffering from a misogynistic man, so she knows that she shouldn't expect her soulmate to be perfect. Not even close to that.

He might have good intentions and even a right heart, but she expects him to be self-righteous, over-confident and over-manly, just like her father. She wonders what will happen when _he_ notices that she will not be pliant, that she is a woman of her own and she won't allow anyone to rule over her, whatever the cause.

She joins the British Armed Forces as soon as she turns eighteen, showing everyone around her that she is not an empty head. She is intelligent and she will be equal to whomever. No, she will never be regarded as inferior, not even by her soulmate. _Especially_ not by her soulmate.

She travels through Europe working for some division of the MI6, infiltrating into the Nazi lines, early into the war, and rescuing Erskine, amongst others. She is one of the most valued spies in Europe because she can turn any situation in her favour and men don't know what to do with her. She outwits them, she makes them uncomfortable by simply being a woman.

And she can affirm that she is very glad the day that she gets an offer from the SSR and her mother decides to pack up with her. They both move to America, even if that means she is closer to the origin of her pull, and that's a situation she didn't want to force.

She isn't that sure that it's the right time to meet her soulmate yet, so she takes another opportunity of travelling with the SSR, working with Erskine again and taking a new secret project under her wings.

Project Rebirth becomes the centre of her thoughts and she quickly forgets that her soulmate is in the same region as she is.

It's not until three years later and the Project becomes a reality that she remembers about her bond.

Some men are recruited to select the best of them to become the first super soldier... and when she's offered the chance to train the soldiers, she takes it eagerly. She wants to be a part of the selection, she wants to make sure that the soldier will be the right person – it's not that she doesn't trust Erskine, but she does know by a fact that he'll feel better if he knows that he is fully endorsed by someone else.

She feels nervous and almost on the verge of being terrified when she notices that her soulmate is amongst them. The bond had never felt any closer. When she walks to the field, she eyes the soldiers critically. Almost all of them are a carbon copy of all the other soldiers, but for one. That... _boy?_ is small and carrying himself like he had never been a) prouder of being somewhere and b) more scared of what he is about to do. That is sweet. And distracting, because she should be looking for her soulmate amongst them, not eyeing the small guy.

“Recruits, attention!”

“Gentlemen, I am Agent Carter. I supervise all the operations for this division.” She says, hard and confident, looking at all of them again.

“What's with the accent, Queen Victoria?” A voice answers, way too close to the origin of her pull to make her feel safe, because this kind of answer is everything she has fought against since she was a girl. “Thought I was signing up for the U.S. Army.”

“What's your name, soldier?” She says, walking to him, and feeling so damn happy when the pull moves slightly to his side. It's not this arsehole.

“Gilmore Hodge, your majesty.” And he keeps it up with the pet names, like it wasn't enough with the first one.

“Step forward, Hodge.” She orders, firmly as she has always done. Her soulmate may be any of the others, but she can happily kick this one. “Put your right foot forward.”

“We gonna wrestle? Cause I got a few moves I know you'll like.”

Patronizing. Shit, he really doesn't have any redeeming attribute. She punches him straight in his face, making him fall back and all the other soldiers to take half a step back. Men. They don't really know a bloody thing about women, do they?

… well, not all of them have taken a step back. The small guy, he is smiling. She smiles back to him and her heart makes a small flip in her chest.

That guy is... _him?_ Her soulmate is... this?

* * *

That same night, she sits through a meeting with Colonel Phillips and Dr. Erskine, being shown all the merits of the soldiers to be in this division. As she had suspected, all of them are carbon copies who excelled at the Army's training. They are fast, big, strong and... pig headed, if Hodge is the best of them.

Then, there is Rogers. Phillips doesn't want to hear anything about him, but Erskine is already convinced that he is the best choice they have. Truth to be told, her heart is telling her the same, after years of feeling that warmth through her bond, but she cannot trust it... not while she doesn't know if it's the bond speaking or if he is really as she imagined him to be.

Erskine doesn't leave after Phillips has gone to rest. It has always been so, they have always stayed up to chat while the Colonel left for other duties, even if it's just to remember the old times in Europe.

“Steve is a great choice, Peggy.”

She is nursing a tumbler of whisky, just to have something to blame for the headache that she'll have in the morning. She is stunned by the intensity of her own emotions, so much that she isn't able to think anymore. Not about Rogers. “You sound so sure, Abraham.”

“He wants nothing more than this in his whole life. You should have listened to him. He is intelligent, he has a huge heart and he simply wants to stop the bad guys from hurting the innocent. He can't stand the bullies, Peggy.” Erskine is so enthusiastic that she feels like laughing, at least until he keeps talking “He would be the only choice for you, as well, if you had spoken to him.”Oh, like she had a choice.

“And is that good?”

“He just wants to do the right thing. You and him, you are both alike.” He doesn't know. She can't tell him how his words are opening up all her wounds and playing with all her hopes.

She drinks off the rest of her drink before standing up. “If you'll excuse me, Abraham, I don't feel quite alright tonight.”

Erskine stands up as well, walking with her to the door. “You look like you need a night of sleep, indeed. Have a good night, Peggy.”

“You too.”

* * *

Rogers quickly becomes the centre of her universe. It's too sudden, it's too fast... and it's completely ridiculous how the guy stands up in front of the others, sticks out like a thumb-tack. Erskine is right.

Rogers is the only choice to receive the super soldier serum, whether her heart becomes terrified by thinking of how wrong the experiment could go. She has seen Schmidt in his full glory, unmasked, but... each and every prove does nothing but add more points to the Rogers' bucket.

He is the perfect specimen to become the first super-soldier.

“Squad, halt!” The instructor says, all of them stopping but Rogers still running, yards behind the others “That flag means you're only at the half way point! First man to bring it to me, gets to ride back with Agent Carter!”

All the soldiers run to the pole, trying to climb it up, but none of them tries to team up or help the others. It's sad how they never do that. They are so... self-centred... it's vain, actually. If I can't get it, none does.

“Nobody's got that flag in seventeen years. Come on, come on, fall in! Back in formation!” The instructor yells after a minute, none had even climbed to the half of the pole. When they leave the pole is when Rogers comes closer “Rogers! I said, fall in.”

She can't resist but smile at him, when he dispatches the flag from the pole and gives it to the instructor saying “Thank you, Sir.”

And yes, she definitely can't resist but poking all the others when Rogers climbs to her car “Faster, ladies! Come on! My grandmother has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!”

The ride back is silent, but dear God, the boy does have a perfect smile. He is looking at her though his incredibly long eyelashes and blushing... and she has never felt the need to protect someone as much as she is feeling it right now.

He must know that she is his soulmate, why isn't he acting up? Why isn't he trying to impress her more directly than passing the tests? Is this some weird way to drive her crazy or is he... like this?

* * *

“... Hodge passed every test we gave him. He's big, he's fast, he obeys orders, he's a soldier.” Colonel Phillips is speaking to Erskine again. In the past days she has heard every variation of this conversation and she has started to filter Phillips' voice and actions out of her mind.

“He is a bully.” Erskine simply states.

“You don't win wars with niceness, Doctor. You win wars with guts.” Phillips is doing something before throwing a thing to the camp, but she's not registering it either until he shouts “Grenade!”

She opens her eyes widely and takes a step forward, but before she has reached the grenade, there is someone else over it. Her heart stops beating when she sees Steve laying over the grenade, using his body to protect them all.

He looks up at her for half a second and shouts “Stay away! Get back!”

She has never felt more relieved than when her mind process that the grenade won't explode. She couldn't deal with...

“Phony grenade. Men, back in formation.” Phillips orders.

“Is this a test?” Rogers asks, still laying on the ground, looking completely dumbfounded.

“He's still skinny.” Phillips mutters before leaving.

* * *

He has been chosen.

Just like Erskine said, there was no other possible choice.

She is waiting for Steve at the camp first thing the next morning. He sits next to her in the car and he smiles at her. He is charming, in his own way, even if he doesn't fit the standards of beauty. He doesn't speak for the first minutes, not until they reach New York.

“I know this neighbourhood” He says, looking out of the window. “I got beat up in that alley. And that parking lot... and behind that diner.”

She looks at him and cracks a smile, because why would he showing this vulnerable side to her in the first place? And even more to an official, while they are going to the experiment that will change his life “Did you have something against running away?”

He nods, looking very serious for the first time “You start running and they'll never let you stop. You stand up, push back... You can't say no forever, right.”

“I know a little of what that's like. To have every door shut in your face.”

“I guess I just don't know why you would want to join the Army.” He says, his face blushing again, but there is something in his words that is infuriating her because it sounds slightly judgemental “You are a beautiful dame. Beauti... oh, a woman, I mean...” He stutters over his own words, because he is noticing how all of his speech is wrong and he wants to change it “An agent, not a Dame. You are beautiful.” He finishes, looking up at her, and the need to check if she is offended is so clear on his face that her heart instantly forgives him.

“You have no idea how to talk to a woman, do you?” She wants to laugh, because it's clear that he was intended to compliment her and not to insult her, but...

“I think this is the longest conversation I've had with a woman.” He is looking through the window, refusing to make eye contact “They aren't exactly lining up to dance with a guy that might step on them.”

“You must have danced.” She says sweetly, her heart making that funny thing again. He is too sweet and she craves to protect him.

“Well, asking a woman to dance always seemed so terrifying. And the past few years just...” He shakes his head lightly “It didn't seem to matter that much. Figured I'd wait.”

“For what?”

“Right partner.” He says, just when the car stops, making her feel so proud of him. Her bond was right, all this time. The feelings she felt through it... He is... perfect. And she hasn't had any time to enjoy him before... experiment. Right. That's why they are here.

“This way.” She orders, wanting to hide her feelings, stepping out of the car. Today is the big day and she can't show any weaknesses, even less to Steve. He has to be brave. For the world.

“What are we doing here?” Steve asks, following her as best as he can. He is really a clumsy lovely thing, even after all the military training. It's just the way his body reacts, she has to guess.

“Wonderful weather this morning.” She says to the other agent, opening the line.

“Isn't it?”

Steve is looking between them, like he can't believe his ears. What was he expecting, a full disclosed lab in the middle of New York? So naïve. “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

She walks to the back of the antique shop, Steve following her and looking even more confused when they stop in front of a bookshelf, a door opening for them.

Steve walks to the centre of the room, both Howard and Abraham taking care of him. She is hoovering around because she feels like she can't leave Steve alone through this.

“Agent Carter, don't you think you would be more comfortable in the booth?” Abraham speaks to her, making her snap out of her thoughts.

“Oh? Yes, ah... sorry.” She mutters, glancing again at Steve. She slowly climbs the stairs, going into the booth but never taking her eyes off of Steve. Diplomats are everywhere, so she can't express herself. She stands in a corner, watching Steve carefully.

The procedure is quick, quicker than she had expected. She can't avoid biting her lip when Steve gets injected with the serum. There are so many things that could go wrong... so many... she trust Abraham and she trusts Steve but... this is an experimental procedure. It's...

She holds her breath while the camera closes on Steve. Vita-rays... She runs out of the booth when he starts screaming. “Shut it down! Shut it down!” She shouts from the top of the staircase, because she can also feel it through the link. Steve is in severe pain.

“No! Don't! I can do this!”

Howard doesn't hesitate bringing the machine onto full power and she grips the handrail, standing very still, her breath shaking as the lights go off.

“How do you feel?” She touches his chest on an impulse, over his heart. Oh, dear Lord, he is...

“Taller.”

“You look taller.” She smiles, giving him a shirt... and then everything goes to hell as the booth explodes. She ducks, looking for the origin of the explosion and she turns to the sound of the gun just in time to see Abraham falling, red blood pouring from his chest.

She takes her gun and fires against the Hydra's agents, but one of them manages to escape even if she's firing him. She runs behind the agent, shooting at his car, standing in the middle of the road to take the shot... until Steve shoves her out of the way.

“I HAD HIM!” She shouts out, because she really wanted to hit the guy who had... killed Abraham.

“Sorry!” He says, running after the car, almost at the same speed.

She is left dumbfounded on the street, looking at Steve run like he had had that body for all his life, barefoot and determined, running through the alleys he used to know, where he used to get hit.

Now, he is a super soldier and he will protect everyone... but... he is also hers. Some way. Somehow.

* * *

“... Speaking modestly, I'm the best mechanical engineer in this country.” Howard is saying as she enters the room behind Colonel Phillips “But I don't know what's inside this thing or how it works... We're not even close to this technology.”

“Then who is?” the Senator asks, too stupid to know anything of what are they fighting.

“Hydra.” Colonel Phillips answers, walking right up to Rogers and the “I'm sure you've been reading our briefings.”

“I'm on a number of committees, Colonel.”

“Hydra is the Nazi deep-science division.” She explains, just so Steve can understand what is going on there, because she couldn't care any less about the Senator not reading their briefings “It's led by Johann Schmidt. But he has much bigger ambitions.”

“Hydra is practically a cult. They worship Schmidt.” Phillips says, much to his own disgust as to everyone else's “They think he's invincible.”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I spoke to the President this morning. As of today, the SSR is being re-tasked.”

“Colonel?” She asks, afraid for the first time since she entered the SSR. Re-tasked? What? Why? Now that they have everything they worked for? Now that Steve is the super-soldier?

“We are taking the fight to Hydra. Pack your bags, Agent Carter. You, too, Stark.” Phillips pauses and looks at Steve for a split second “We're flying to London tonight.”

“Sir?” Steve asks, quite bravely “If you're going after Schmidt, I want in.”

“You're an experiment. You're going to Alamo Gordo.”

“The serum worked.”

“I asked for an army and all I got was you. You are not enough.” Phillips leaves but she stays behind, her eyes firmly locked in Steve as he takes the Colonel's words.

“With all due respect to the Colonel, I think we may be missing the point.” the Senator decides to interrupt again “I've seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country's seen it. Paper.” He points at one of the boys behind and waits until the paper is delivered “The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the news-stands. You don't take a soldier, a symbol like that, and hide him in a lab.” He pauses, looking at Steve like he had never seen something like that before. Which, yes, he hasn't, but it's flagging all the alarms in Peggy's mind “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

“Sir, that's all I want.”

“Then, congratulations. You just got promoted.”

She watches the conversation going on, knowing that something is inherently wrong but not knowing where to pinpoint it. The Senator is up to something that Steve won't like, but he's so happy that her bond is practically vibrating with the joy, so she doesn't say anything.

She has no rights. She is leaving the country in the morrow and nothing will change that.

She will see this war ended and the fall of Schmidt.

She owes that to Abraham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got way too long (around 6K and I'm not done with it yet - I had never written anything in Peggy's POV but I guess I am enjoying it way too much) so I figured I'd post this first part already instead of making you all wait more.
> 
> Next chapter is also Peggy, and the next one should be either The Winter Soldier's or Tony's. And I was wrong. I said 4 or 5 chapters but no, it'll be more like 9.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! :)


	3. Peggy II

“Hello, Steve.” She says while sneaking into the tent. She shouldn't be here, she knows as much. She was supposed to stay at the lab with Howard at all times, monitoring the production and the logistics, getting sure that everything is ready for the soldiers. She shouldn't have blindly followed her thread when she felt how wounded Steve's feelings were but she could do nothing to stop herself from following it – it's... Steve. And Steve is placed well above any responsibility that she might have.

“Hi.” He says, more as an automatic reaction when he hears her steps than as a greeting, not really noticing her. She walks closer, staring at the notebook in his hands but not saying anything until he does notice her, turning back to look at her. The notebook is momentarily forgotten, before he tries to put it away. She has seen the drawings, though, and it does surprise her because she has felt the same at times. Monkey in the bright outfit. They have never fit out there, not exactly, they stick out like the thumb of a nail.

“Hi.” She repeats with a kind smile, trying to give him support.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks, always so quick to notice things others don't. As her nervousness. The bond must help, after all.

“Officially, I'm not here at all.” She answers, delicately. It's hard to talk to him after everything she has seen from the outside and the pang of embarrassment that she has felt through the bond. “That was quite a performance.” She opts to open the topic subtly, seeing if he wants to talk about it.

“Yeah.” He says, huffing, the sentiment of embarrassment still too present, even if he is too kind to refuse the conversation “I had to improvise a little bit... The crowds I'm used to are usually more... twelve.”

“I understand you're _America's New Hope_.” she says, and while she wishes she was kidding, she knows that it's true. Steve is America's New Hope, but none sees that as they really should. It's not the hope that Senator Brant has made into an exhibition, just something to calm the crowds; and it's not what Colonel Phillips was hoping for. Steve is different. It's... He is better than that.

“Bond sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit.” Steve comments lightly, just like he must be used to do in the receptions after the shows.

“Is that Senator Brandt I hear?” She can't avoid being slightly judgemental, because she really loathes the man. Someone who only cares about money and popularity...

“At least he's got me doing this.” Steve does sound depressed, and she wonders what has he been through in those weeks “Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.”

“And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey?” She is getting upset by the conversation because Steve should know better than this, he should know that if he was chosen to become the super-soldier is because he is better than _that_ “You were meant for more than this, you know.”

“You know, for the longest time, I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country... I finally got everything I wanted and... I'm wearing tights...” He pauses, looking at the outside, even if there is none there, maybe because he recalls their faces as well as she does “while they look like they've been through hell.”

“These men more than most. Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men went up against him, and less than 50 returned.” She tries to make her next words sound as relaxed as she can, because if she looks into the hell that the soldiers are going through, she'll break down “Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest were killed or captured.”

“The 107th?” Steve looks like he had been shot, and his hand moves closer to his heart.

“What?” She asks because she doesn't understand anything.

“Come on.” He says, standing up, almost running to the Colonel's tent, entering without a pause or a knock. “Colonel Phillips.”

Phillips stops moving, looking up to Steve with a sour expression on his face “Well, if it isn't the _Star-Spangled Man With A Plan_. What's your plan today?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.” Steve says quickly and hard, she has the impression that he'd be out of breath if he wasn't a super soldier, by how agitated his feelings are.

“You don't get to give me orders, son.” Phillips interrupts him.

Steve's heart seems to stop before he speaks again, hastily, needy “I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy.” Phillips tells her, threatening like always. She knows how to deal with him, she knows what she will hear and she doesn't care even a bit.

“Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R...”

“I can spell. I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar.” Phillips pauses, and she knows that he really means his words. Steve must know it, too, because his heart shatters before the next sentence comes out “I'm sorry.”

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yes, it's called ' _winning the war_ '.” Phillips says, standing up to try to finish the conversation.

“But if you know where they are, why not at least...”

“They're 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save.” The words are hard and cutting, but also true, Peggy knows as much “But I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl.”

“I think I understand just fine.” Steve answers, upset, hurt and grieving. But some other feeling is running underneath, such a contrast that she can't understand what is going on on Steve's mind.

“Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in 30 minutes.”

“Yes, sir. I do.” Steve's brows are burrowed and a hard determination has set on his face.

“If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself.” Phillips tells her as Steve walks out and she sighs before following Steve.

She actually hurries, running to the car behind Steve, if she lets him escape now between her fingers, she may never see him again “What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?”

“If that's what it takes.” He answers, sounding totally devastated. It's almost worse to hear it than the ping of sadness that she's feeling through the bond.

“You heard the Colonel. Your friend is most likely dead.” She doesn't want to destroy the last hope that he has but... she can't lose him.

“You don't know that.”

She shakes her head and grabs his wrist “Even so, the Colonel is devising a strategy. If he detects...”

“By the time he's done that, it could be too late.” It's the first time that Steve interrupts her and it shows her, more than anything, how much he loves that Sgt. Barnes.

“Steve...”

“You told me you thought I was meant for more than this.” He pauses and looks into her eyes, emotions flying back and forth in the bond “Did you mean that?”

“Every word.” It's her reply, fast and confident.

“Then you got to let me go. I _can_ do more than that.”

* * *

She can't let him go like that. She knows that _she_ can also do more than that. She calls Howard, inviting him into the suicidal-like mission. Howard, like the mad man he is, accepts it so quickly that she doesn't even have time to finish explaining how dangerous it will be.

“The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges. It's a factory of some kind.” She says, wanting to give Steve all the information that she has. He is crazy too and she is probably mad for allowing this, but it's what Steve needs to do.

“We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep.” Howard confidently states.

“Just get me as close as you can. You two are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land.” Steve says, always so kind, worrying more for them than for himself.

“And you won't?” She asks, equally terrified for him.

“Where I'm going, if anybody yells at me, I can just shoot them.” He smiles.

“They will undoubtedly shoot back.” She can't let the fear to be shown in front of anyone else. She has to be strong for Steve. She trusts him way too much.

“Well, let's hope it's good for something.”

Howard interrupts them, sounding bored and playful, like he always does. Stark is a kid at war, a mad genius “Agent Carter? If we're not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue.”

Steve raises his eyebrows and she feels the need to explain, if only to break the sudden and uncomfortable silence “Stark is the best civilian pilot I've ever seen. He's mad enough to brave this airspace. We're lucky to have him.”

“So, are you two... Do you... fondue?” Steve is so adorably confused and she has no time to explain... she should probably explain, because Steve is wounded by Howard's words, but she doesn't know what has he misinterpreted and there is no time for this.

“This is your transponder.” She says, holding up a device for him “Activate it when you're ready and the signal will lead us straight to you.”

“Are you sure this thing works?” Steve says, somehow between worried and teasing.

“It's been tested more than you, pal.” Howard says, chuckling lowly.

The first shot hits the wing, making the plane bob in the air. Steve stands up and goes to the door, picking a parachute and she freezes in place for a second. Is he crazy? Is he going to jump? Like this? In the middle of the fire?

“Get back here!” She shouts “We're taking you all the way in!”

“As soon as I'm clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” Steve shouts from the door, where he sits to jump out.

“You can't give me orders!” All that she wants to do right now is to shove him back inside and smack some sense into his head, even if that'd be good for nothing.

“The hell I can't! I'm a Captain!” He smiles at her and makes a military salute before jumping, and she's so worried that she almost jumps behind him, wanting to watch him go down safely. She smiles when she sees that nothing hits him, that he reaches the ground in one piece.

* * *

“Senator Brandt, I regret to report that Captain Steven G. Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on the third. Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful.” Phillips pauses, looking at her before reciting the next sentence “As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action. Period.”

“The last surveillance flight is back. No sign of activity.”

Phillips clears his throat, looking at the corporal who was typing into the machine“Go get a cup of coffee, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man quickly leaves, leaving them alone in the tent.

“I can't touch Stark.” Phillips starts for the nth time in the last days “He's rich and he's the Army's number one weapons contractor. You are neither one.”

“With all due respect, sir,” she interrupts him, fed up of hearing the same speech again and again, and knowing that Steve isn't dead, even if she can't be sure and she has no way to convince Phillips to look for him “I don't regret my actions. And I don't think Captain Rogers did, either.”

“What makes you think I give a damn about your opinions? I took a chance with you, Agent Carter. And now America's golden boy and a lot of other good men are dead 'cause you had a crush.”

“It wasn't that.” Never a feeling has been so underestimated as calling what she has a crush but she can't exactly tell him what Steve is for her “I had faith.”

“Well, I hope that's a big comfort to you when they shut this division down...” She has never been more grateful of the noisy soldiers when Phillips cuts himself off to take a look around “What the hell's going on out there?”

The noise that makes them all run out of their tents is the wheels of a German tank. It's a sound that they have come to know way too well and never for good. Everyone is in different states of undress, but suddenly the noise changes and the men start cheering. Almost every missing from the 107th is back, and looks like they didn't come alone. Steve is marching in front of them, holding his men like a true Captain, even if he didn't get that kind of training. It's natural to him.

“Look who it is!” A man shouts.

“Some of these men need medical attention.” Someone behind Steve says, and it's quickly echoed by the crowd “Medic, we got wounded!”

Steve looks at her after a quick glance to Phillips as soon as he stops marching in front of them “I'd like to surrender myself for disciplinary action.”

“That won't be necessary.” Phillips answers, looking at him with actual hope now. Everything he didn't believe in in the past, is now clear to him. Steve is hope personified and he can do things that none else could even dream of.

“Yes, sir.” Steve is still focusing on her, his smile shinning like the Sun.

“Faith, huh?” Phillips murmurs, looking at her smile and perhaps understanding for the first time what goes on between Steve and her.

“You're late.” She scolds him, half joking, half serious.

“Couldn't call my ride.” He holds the destroyed transponder and she instantly forgives everything she went through during the last days. She knew Steve wasn't revenging on her because of Howards' comment, but it was great to get a confirmation.

* * *

“The fifth one was here in Poland, right near the Baltic. And the sixth one was about here, 30, 40 miles west of the Maginot Line. I just got a quick look.” Steve has given them more information in the last fifteen minutes than anything they had discovered in years of chasing Hydra, and he's talking like it was nothing.

“Well, nobody's perfect.” She says ironically, smirking.

“These are the weapon factories we know about.” Steve continues, smiling at her “Sergeant Barnes said that Hydra shipped all the parts to another facility that isn't on this map.”

“Agent Carter, coordinate with Ml6. I want every Allied eyeball looking for that main Hydra base.” Phillips orders her, curt and short, as always.

“What about us?”

“We are going to set a fire under Johann Schmidt's ass.” Phillips turns to Steve, looking at him almost for the first time “What do you say, Rogers? It's your map. You think you can wipe Hydra off it?”

“Yes, sir. I'll need a team.” Steve says, happy as he wasn't before. She can easily see the change of his demeanour,

“We're already putting together the best men.”

“With all due respect, sir, so am I.”

* * *

“Captain.” She says, walking through the doors of the bar in her splendid red dress. Steve is sitting with some guy, chatting happily. She has never quite seen him this happy and her heart makes a funny thing in her chest. These are the men he trusts with his live, his team. They must be good.

“Agent Carter.” Steve says, almost bowing his greeting. Charmer.

“Ma'am.” The other man says and it's the first time she takes a look at him. He's just a regular American soldier, with longish brown hair and deep, beautiful blue eyes. Bucky, she knows his name. He's handsome, certainly, but she doesn't even consider the man, talking to Steve instead.

“Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?”

“Sounds good.” Steve is still smiling happily. He's carefree for once. It's delightful.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” She says, looking at the men around her. All of them are getting drunk, seemingly not caring even a bit about the tomorrow. It's a good thing, they are at war, they should enjoy as much as they can.

“You don't like music?” Bucky chirps in.

“I do, actually.” She smiles at Steve, feeling the urge to touch him, to hug him “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Bucky blatantly asks, eyeing her up and down like she's a piece of meat. _This_ is the man for whom Steve battled a whole encampment. She'd say it's incredible but no, it isn't, because Steve was perfectly happy when she entered through the door. He must have some value that she isn't seeing.

“The right partner. 0800, Captain.” She says, turning to leave.

“Yes, ma'am. I'll be there.” Steve answers quickly, even if his thoughts are already focused in the man next to him.

* * *

“Captain!” She shouts, when she sees Steve with that blonde wrapped around him, kissing him like she wanted to eat him right there. She doesn't fail to notice his arm around her waist. No, it wasn't _just_ her. “We're ready for you, if you're not otherwise occupied.”

“Agent Carter, wait.” Steve says, pulling back from the woman.

“Looks like finding a partner wasn't that hard after all.” She says, walking fast and not really caring if he follows her or not, though she is glad when she hears him talking.

“Peggy, that's not what you thought it was.”

“I don't think anything, Captain, not one thing.” She interrupts him, because she doesn't want to hear any explanation, she has seen enough, mind you “You always wanted to be a soldier, and now you are, just like all the rest.”

“Well, what about you and Stark? How do I know you two haven't been fondue-ing?” Steve is being blunt and open, showing again how deeply inexperienced he is in the real world... but it's not something that matters to her, right now.

She turns slowly, like giving him a last chance to apologize. “You still don't know a bloody thing about women.” She hisses.

-

“... What you're holding there, that's all we've got.” Howard is saying, talking about a new shield with Steve.

“Are you quite finished, Mr. Stark? I'm sure the Captain has some unfinished business.” She is still filled up with rage, angry as she never was before, even if she's trying not to show it.

“What do you think?” Steve asks, completely lightly, like a smile could make her forgive him. It makes her even more angry, at the blink of seeing white as she turns to him.

She doesn't really think, it's automatic. She picks a gun from the table and shots at the shield – she knows at the back of her mind that it will work, because Howard never fails and that she's just scaring him, but some deeply integrated thing wants to hurt Steve – and shoots at him. Three shots, hitting the centre of the shield and dropping as three small buttons of metal.

“Yes, I think it works.” She says, storming off.

* * *

She walks between the walls of a destroyed bar, so similar to the one they had visited weeks ago. Perhaps even the same, she has lost the sense of space and time when they are going around ruins all the time. And she isn't really recording a thing right now, apart from the pain that is shattering her heart, coming from the bond.

The news that Sgt. James Barnes has fallen have been spreading like a wildfire in the encampment, all the men are mourning his loss, even more because there is no body to bury.

“Dr. Erskine said that the serum wouldn't just affect my muscles, it would affect my cells.” Steve doesn't have to turn to know that it's her entering the bar, and it's not only about the super senses, she knows that it's about their bond as well “Create a protective system of regeneration and healing. Which means I can't get drunk. Did you know that?”

“Your metabolism burns four times faster than the average person. He thought it could be one of the side effects.” She answers, because yes, Abraham had told her everything related to the serum, before and after Steve was chosen. The fact that she had started asking more questions after Steve had entered the training hadn't escaped the good doctor, but he was killed way too soon. He would have known. He would have helped. “It wasn't your fault.”

“Did you read the report?” He asks, nursing the glass between his fingers.

“Yes.”

“Then you know that's not true.” He leaves the glass on the table, his shoulders are hunched down and he looks about to break. It's not the image of the man she has always known, not even when he was small and frail.

“You did everything you could.” She says, sitting next to him “Did you believe in your friend? Did you respect him?” She asks, holding her hands because if she doesn't, she's going to hug him and them he'll break down. And he can't break down just now. “Then stop blaming yourself. Allow Barnes the dignity of his choice. He damn well must have thought you were worth it.” ' _I think that you are worthy. I would have made that sacrifice myself._ ', is the thought that she leaves unsaid, knowing that Steve can hear it loud and clear, even if she doesn't voice it.

“I'm going after Schmidt.” Steve declares, looking at her, his eyes somehow clearer now “I'm not gonna stop until all of Hydra is dead or captured.”

“You won't be alone.” She promises, taking his hand.

* * *

“You're late.” He says, smiling. Such an inappropriate gesture in the middle of everything. Phillips hadn't wanted her to come, but no way she was staying behind, waiting at the base to know if...

She shakes her head “Weren't you about to...” She gestures to the door, where the shield is hanging.

“Oh. Right.” Steve says, and it's almost like he had forgotten they were in the middle of a battle. It happens to her all the time, when she looks at him she forgets the time and the space, the only thing that matters is Steve.

As Steve starts running behind Schmidt, she finds Phillips and the garage by crossing the other door. As fast as Steve is, surely he was too slow getting in the room, and it's her fault, so she jumps to the car and tries to start it. Phillips laughs when he sees her trying, because he knows that she's totally unable to drive an European car, and jumps in to drive it for her.

“Let's go get Steve.” She says, and Phillips starts the car, speeding into the middle of the battle.

It's easy to spot Steve, running behind the plane, too slow as she predicted.

“Get in!” She says, as Phillips slows the car down next to Steve, just enough for him to get in the car and start driving again, following the plane at top speed. They are lucky that the car is powered by the same force as the plane, because a regular fuel car wouldn't be able to run at that speed behind the plane.

“Keep it steady!” Steve asks to the Colonel, wanting to jump to the aircraft.

“Wait!” She holds him, pulling him down towards her. He looks down at her, eyes wide in surprise as she kisses him, brief and hard “Go get him.” She murmurs against his lips, knowing somehow that if she didn't kiss him now, she'd regret it forever.

Steve turns to look at Colonel Phillips, eyes still wide “I'm not kissing you!”

Steve shakes his head for a brief second, amused, before he jumps to the plane and they are left hanging by a cliff.

* * *

She is waiting, almost waltzing on her toes, so nervous... Waiting for Steve to say that everything is alright, that the war is over...

“... this is Captain Rogers. Do you read me?”

“Captain Rogers, what is your...” One of the soldiers manages to say before she takes his spot, pushing the guy away. It's gonna be her the first to know where and how is Steve, thank you.

“Steve is that you, are you all right?” She asks, grabbing the microphone like it was the only thing keeping her alive.

“Great, Schmidt's dead.” Steve answers. He's not telling everything, she can tell that from his voice.

“What about the plane?” She asks, worry filtering through her voice, even if she wants to keep everything controlled.

Steve actually breathlessly laughs before answering “That's a little bit tougher to explain.”

“Give me your coordinates I'll find you a safe landing site.” She says, and it's almost a prayer, she is begging Steve to be alright. To come back... home.

“There's not going to be a safe landing. I'm going to try and force it down.” Stubborn. Stubborn idiot, perfect soldier, wanting to protect everyone.

She closes her eyes, trying to hold the tears. “I'll get Howard on the line, he'll know what to do.”

“There's not enough time.” He answers, and when she hears that lump on his voice that she knows what her heart refused to hear before. He's not gonna make it. “This thing's moving to fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water.”

“Please, don't do this.” The tears are flowing out of her eyes, she has no control over them “We have time, we can work it out.”

“Right now I'm in the middle of nowhere. If I wait any longer a lot of people are going to die.” Steve pauses, talking now in a much intimate way. “Peggy. This is my choice.”

She can't say anything back, for her voice is lost.

“Peggy.”

“I'm here.” she says even if it hurts her to answer. Her heart feels so heavy in her chest that she doesn't know how she is still breathing.

“I'm going to need a rain check on that dance.” He says, trying to say that it's not over, that he might... maybe... he's the super soldier, right? There should be a chance for him.

“All right. A week next Saturday at the Stork Club.” She says, holding a sob.

“You got it.”

“Eight O’clock, on the dot. Don't you dare be late...” She is damn crying, tears rolling down her cheeks, but she will not give it up so easily “Understood?”

“You know I still don't know how to dance.”

“I'll show you how. Just be there.” It's no more than a whisper.

“We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your...” There is a radio noise before the connection is lost... and not just the radio one. Her arm has become heavy and cold, all in a sudden.

“Steve?” She mutters, a sliver of hope still in her, slowly getting lost as the signal doesn't come back. “... Steve...”

She stays for a long time sitting in that chair, holding her arm and crying her heart out. It's Phillips the one that comes to gather her, when the night has fallen.

She doesn't remember much of that day. Or the others that followed.

* * *

A week later, she sits at the Stork Club in her red dress. She is stunning and beautiful like she has never been before. It's also the first time in her life that she gets drunk.

None dares to ask her to dance that night.

Only the kid from Brooklyn had a right to do that, and he's gone.

* * *

It hurts like hell, but she tries to make a life of her own again. Relationships outside of the bond are highly frowned upon, but she's not the only person who has lost their soulmate in the war. It's most frequently women, the ones who lost everything, but there are also some men.

She dates here and there, men and women, but she eventually gets married to a decent man. He is nothing like Steve, but none could ever compare to Steve.

The Howling Commandos are the main reason why she does anything out in public nowadays – weddings, parties, kids, anything she can think of, they celebrate it. She also becomes the godmother of Howard's kid... and that makes her wish to have kids of her own, even if she's not sure that she'll ever act on that thought, mostly because of Tony as well.

Anthony, _Tony_ , is the most beautiful boy she has ever seen.

He has big, bright brown eyes, full of life and adventure. Every day that she sees Tony, he is up at something new. He constructs with his small hands and also creates new worlds with his words. He will be a true showman, he'll know how to charm a crowd with a couple of well chosen words... or not chosen at all. Tony doesn't seem to think too much before he speaks, actually.

He couldn't be more different from Steve, but they share a little something inside their chests. They don't give up on anything.

As much as she likes Tony, sometimes he exhausts her so much that she thinks she'll never be able to do anything else again – the kid will come running behind her every time he sees her.

* * *

Tony is barely eight but he is never quiet or still for long. She always tries to visit her godson, but it's never enough for him... which is right, because Howard is being an horrible father and so is Maria. They ignore their kid so much that the boy is practically a baby duckling, imprinting on whomever gives him a bit of attention.

He is also a clever boy and his questions hurt the most, even if he's not ill intended.

“Aunt Peggs?” He has laid his head on her lap, feet dangling over the arm-rest.

“Yes, darling?” She caresses his head, trying to make him fall asleep.

“Why do you never go with Father to look for your boyfriend?” His eyes are wide and curious, there is this spark behind them, something that only lights up when he's truly puzzled about something. She's sad to know that usually the questions behind this feeling are questions about human nature. No, the child isn't being nurtured properly. Everything he hears are half stories, not meant for his ears, but he's too clever for his own good and he understands the basics of some of the troubles they all have, even if that leaves him even more confused about what is normal and what isn't. Someone should talk to Tony about feelings, she suddenly realizes.

“First of all, my dear, I am married now. I don't have any boyfriend and Steve was never my boyfriend.” She pauses and Tony nods, like he actually differentiated between both concepts, which she knows that he doesn't “He was my soulmate. And because he was, I know that he's not alive.”

“How can you know that?”

“The bond is not alive, my dear.”

“Oh.” Tony's eyes are inquisitive, and she feels like her heart is breaking... because he seems to understand her answer. She wants to ask him, she wants to know how could he... but she won't.

She would never ask that. Not to Tony. Not when now her heart knows a secret that she never intended to know, not about the child that she loves the most in the entire world.

“Oh, Tony...” She simply hugs him and Tony hugs her back like he had never needed anything as much before.


	4. The Winter Soldier I

The darkness doesn't last so long.

Or so he thinks, because he really can't remember anything as he mentally chases the light that is burning him behind his eyelids. It's too bright.

He's not even sure about why that concept is important. Light and darkness. He remembers white surrounding him before his sight went black. It hurt. The white hurt? He's not quite sure about anything at the moment, but he is almost certain about colours not being able to hurt someone.

He stirs lightly, feeling uneasy, and then he notices something else: his hearing.

There are voices around him. He doesn't understand a word of what's being said. It doesn't even sound like words, even if he knows that it must be a foreign language – he can't make up when a word finishes and the next starts. The last thing that he remembers hearing, though, was the wind, fast and loud, that made him want to cover his ears but... he couldn't.

There was... a scream, maybe?

Who screamed? Did he scream? Why would he not be able to cover his ears?

He can't remember. No, nothing comes to his mind as he tries to force any memory. Even the white surroundings, the unassailable wind and the scream fade away as he thinks about them. It's like catching water between your fingers, an almost impossible task.

He feels. He is sitting down on a chair, almost laid down. It's like a dentist chair.

His chest heaves up and down and there is a drop of sweat running down his neck. His limbs are starting to become cold. He is panicking hard, even if he doesn't know why he is afraid.

It feels like he had lived this before and... something is wrong.

Something is really wrong and he wants to know what the hell is happening.

He tries to rise his right hand, only to find that he can't move even a finger, that he is strapped to the metallic chair under him with heavy leather straps. Leather. How is he able to recognize what the material is, if he doesn't remember anything about himself?

Someone brings him out of the corner of his mind that is panicking, trying to remember anything that has ever happened to him and failing miserably.

There is a hand on his left shoulder and a movement on his arm; and the pain that flares across his spine is so hard and so acute that he throws his head back and screams, opening his eyes way too suddenly, arm flailing to hit whoever is creating that pain. There is a thud, something falling, and someone yelling in that language he doesn't understand. He only understands a word. _Idiot._

The pain goes away for a second as the hand on his shoulder is gone, before he feels a sting to his neck, to his face, to his fucking mind and the world starts blurring again.

“You must sleep now, Soldier.” says someone, but his sight is too blurred to recognize any feature of the face in front of him before darkness engulfs him once again.

* * *

The first thing that he feels is the brightness behind his eyelids.

Something tells him that he should be careful about that. Something happened the last time he felt brightness behind his eyelids. He shouldn't move, but it's burning his eyes, even if they are closed. He closes them harder, grunting lightly in disgust.

His forehead feels like it's burning up too, like someone had stabbed his brain. Is that even possible? It must be fever. Or maybe he fell somewhere and hit his head. Not even his thick skull can save him from everything.

Something... someone moves something, there is a screeching sound that makes him think about whether or not his eardrums are going to tear, and the next thing that he knows is that the brightness doesn't burn as much.

He opens his eyes.

Slowly, unhurried. He might puke his guts out if he hurries at this particular task. His body seems to be not coordinated at all with how awake his mind feels. Perhaps it's because of the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Or perhaps it is the pain behind his eyelids.

As much as he is hurting, he knows at some primal level that he must learn everything he can about his surroundings. The room in front of him is unlike anything else he had seen before. The floor is a rich combination of marble tiles but there are bars in the middle of the room, making it look like a fancy cage. The walls are metallic. The furniture is metallic as well. There are a dozen items that he doesn't recognize.

It feels like an hospital, though.

Hospital. He has spent quite a time at hospitals, more than enough to recognize the basics of the setting, even if he doesn't remember why he ever visited an hospital or why is he here today.

A voice breaks his concentration, making him turn his head so fast that he almost gives himself a whiplash. The movement is enough to notice that he is bound to the chair and bound very hard. All the muscles on his body feel stiff and his neck hurt and burns.

He groans again, closing his eyes, trying to shake the leather around all his limbs.

“Soldier?” The voice repeats, seeing that he didn't answer the first time.

Soldier. Yes. He is a soldier. He looks at the person at his right side, trying to take in his appearance, trying to recognize him. All his memories feel too blurry to recall anyone or anything but nothing in the man sparks a memory. It's an old man in a white laboratory coat.

What is this?

Where is he?

“Yes?” is his answer, his voice raw. He is thirsty, he notices that now. And hungry. Ravenous, in fact. His eyes also feel dry and he squints them, trying to focus his gaze on the man.

“Welcome home, Soldier.” The man answers, and that does sound familiar but he doesn't know why or how. “How are you feeling?”

He coughs before answering, his throat still feeling on fire “Water.” It's sounds like a plea and it could very well be one because he doesn't know the man in front of him. That man doesn't have to help him, he could very well leave him here to die.

The man grabs a cup, bringing it closer to Bucky's lips, allowing him to drink it. Until he coughs again, tilting his head lightly to stop the water coming into his mouth. He wants to rise his arm, but he knows that's not happening, he's firmly bound down.

“What... what happened?” asks he, as soon as he thinks he can talk without his voice breaking.

“Soldier, you fell while fighting on a mission. We have done our best to bring you back but it wasn't easy and you've been scarred.” The man's voice sounds reassuring, but he knows that he's being checked for his reaction.

“Thanks...?” He stutters, turning it somehow into a question, not knowing what to answer to that.

“We need you to keep on fighting.” The man places a hand on his chin, tilting his head to look into his eyes, and his whole brain squirms “But not before you feel alright, evidently. You might need retraining on your left side.”

His eyes dart down to check his left side, but the man is still holding his chin, hard enough for him to not be able to look down. “What?”

“You have lost your arm, son.” There is not a trace of warmness or compassion in the voice, nothing that he can recognize as human as he releases his chin “Nothing could be done about it, but we have replaced it. The replacement is better, stronger and faster than any human limb could be.”

He can't tear his eyes from the metallic surface of his arm, bumps and rings whereas before he had smooth skin and hairs. His arm? No. Not _his._ _The_ arm. A fucking frightening piece of metal that... oh, God, what has been done to him? Why couldn't he die, like all these other good men at the battlefield?

The man is talking but the man must notice pretty soon that he isn't listening, because he crosses the room and leaves him locked in.

He is panicking again, not noticing anything around him, his gaze tunnelled on the arm. He doesn't move. He doesn't even blink.

* * *

The next time he wakes up, it's because of his sense of smell.

Food.

Maybe it doesn't smell so delicious, but his stomach roars, prompting him to open his eyes to find a bowl of soup and a small loaf of brown bread sitting in a table added to his chair. There is none around, so he shifts in the seat, trying to get closer to the food.

He looks down on himself, noticing that his right arm has been freed from its bounds, allowing him to eat on his own.

The first bite of the bread feels like his mouth was full of sand, but he gulps it down with a swig of the soup, bringing directly the bowl to his lips. His throat feels raw again, but he knows that he has to eat as much as the bread feels like the less appropriate food for him at the moment.

One-handedly, he breaks off the bread and throws the pieces into the bowl, soaking it in the liquid before trying to eat it again, armed with a spoon.

It isn't much, but his stomach is full and heavy before he finishes the meal; even if he would beg for some more food he probably wouldn't be able to hold it down.

He should be thinking about escape – What from? And towards whom or where? – but he falls asleep again, ignoring the dull ache on his whole body.

* * *

He wakes with a scream as something pierces through his upper arm.

He turns his head to find another person in a laboratory coat tinkering with his new arm, a screwdriver buried into the metal plates. It hurts like hell and why does a piece of metal hurt so much? He shouldn't...

“Stop!” He yells at the top of his lungs, shaking and squirming his body as much as he can, even if it's good for nothing. He doesn't moves even an inch and the scientist doesn't give a fuck: he keeps working on his arm exactly as before.

He grits his teeth and closes his eyes shut, his nerves on fire as he tries not to scream again, not to break down crying. He is sweating and his whole body hurts when the scientist stands up and leaves the room. He doesn't know how long it lasts, it could have been anywhere from fifteen minutes to hours of suffering.

He wants to cry, to break down, but he can hear a movement in the room – footsteps? – that startles him back to a watchful status.

“I am your new handler, Soldier.” A voice that he doesn't know says, the accent so thick that he can barely understand him. “We have to start your training.”

He opens his eyes to find a man bigger than anything he has seen before, at least seven feet tall, blonde and his shoulders as broad as those of two regular men put together. The man pulls the leather straps, setting him free and wordlessly orders him to stand up.

He's not convinced of his own ability to walk but he gets on his feet and stumbles across the room, following the blond giant. The arm makes him feel absolutely out of balance, it's too heavy, he cradles it with his other hand and the surface feels too rough, heavily disgusting him.

His fingers tremble as he tries to keep himself from doing anything stupid, like trying to run away or coming back to the chair.

The man, his... handler, whatever is that supposed to mean because he's nor a dog nor a luggage, patiently waits for him at the door, shutting it close behind them as they leave.

The corridors of the building are vaulted, making him think that they are underground, that this is a facility in some foreign country. But where is he from? What is this language he can't understand?

Who is he, really?

The man leads him to another room, something that he recognizes as easily as he recognized the first room. It's a gym. He can tell the name of all the objects in the room but the one that draws his eyes, as it's in the centre of the room is the boxing ring. Instinctively, he knows that this is the place where he is being led to, to try the strength of his arm.

The man takes off his shoes and his t-shirt and turns to Bucky, who tiptoes out of the flip-flops and the too big t-shirt that he's wearing. The only piece of clothes that seem to be his are the cargo pants, because all the others are ill fitting.

He realizes, as he leaves the clothes neatly folded on the floor just to give himself some time, that he has already surrendered to being beat up. He can't even find his balance to give two quick steps in succession, let alone being able to fend off the punches of this beast.

He climbs to the ring, tripping on the string as he enters but facing the man like he was used to fighting on every week day for his survival. He probably should get used to it.

The first punch catches him off guard and he gets hit right in the face, his cheek bruising almost instantly – he can feel the blood flooding under his skin. He takes a step back, looking at the man before deciding to fight back, deciding to do whatever he can right now.

A good punch to the left shoulder leaves him out of breath on the floor, but as soon as the lights behind his eyes stop playing and he feels like he could get to his feet without puking, the man is hitting him again.

He doesn't get any break between the punches and he is standing on his toes, trying to dodge the hits but his arm tips him off of balance all the time. It's pathetic. He's way better than this. He doesn't remember anything but he used to fight. He's a Soldier, not a punch bag, for God's sake!

“Who am I?” He asks between hits as the fight keeps going on, trying to fend himself with his right, even if all the hits come from the left and towards his unprotected flank.

The blond doesn't answer and the question keeps poking his mind, louder and louder, until he throws a punch with his left, the man falling back and outside the ring like he had been hit by a car.

“The best asset to win the war. That's what you are.” The man answers, proud, even if a fit of coughing interrupts him from saying anything more.

* * *

His training gets harder and faster everyday.

His handler seems to be proud of his skills. Prouder and prouder as the time passes. He gets praised every time that he hits something or someone, and his balance and control over the metallic arm is better everyday.

Soon enough, he is fighting groups of three or more people, and learning how to fight with a knife, especially learning how to use them with his left hand. He is sure he never learnt how to deal with a knife, but the first time that they put a rifle into his hands for him to practice...

Oh, God, he had never felt so connected to any object like he has felt towards the rifle.

He is soon shooting outside at a practice yard, moving to smaller and smaller practice targets, even if they are focused on him learning new skills – like the knife or the fighting against big groups.

He quickly notices that something is different in him, he is faster and stronger than all the others, including his handler, if he and any other of the man receive the same impact, he takes it five times better than anyone else. His wounds heal faster.

The only tender point left in his body is his left shoulder.

It hurts like hell when he's hit there, and the first time that he gets a knife cut to his shoulder... he thought that his arm would fall off even if he didn't faint until all his practice targets fell before him. And if he sliced the neck of the guy who had cut his shoulder, well, none said anything.

The next time that he came to training, though, the soldiers were heavily guarded and they tried to hit him harder than ever. Not that it mattered. He is better than all the others and he knocks them off as easily as before.

Because he is the best asset to win the war.

* * *

“We have a mission for you, Soldier.” says his handler, putting a map in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have fallen in love ( _again_ ) with the Winter Soldier. Please, send help.


	5. The Winter Soldier II

He comes back to the headquarters with the hilt of his knife stained in blood and a burn on his hand, as he had set the office of the target on fire. The target had information over _his_ group, the handler said as he was being briefed. That couldn't happen. They needed to be under wraps to be able to change the world, to make it better.

So yes, he killed that man in cold blood, climbing the wall of the building and crossing through a window to slice open the neck of his target and then he set fire to his office.

For the greater good.

He gives a report about the mission, not omitting any detail. That feels familiar, even if he doesn't remember doing anything like that before.

“Sit on your chair, Soldier.” His handler commands, so he does it, he sits down on the chair. He hadn't came back to this room since the beginning, he was quickly assigned a room where he could sleep when they saw that he was the best asset for winning the war.

Perhaps they want to check the arm. Perhaps... not.

“Why?” He asks, out of pure curiosity. He doesn't even squirm when he is tied to the chair, the leather straps holding him down. Maybe he should be afraid, but he knows that they won't _permanently_ hurt him. They need him. He is great.

“Standard procedure, Soldier.” His handler says, with the same tone that he uses when the Soldier asks something he doesn't need to know. He knows that the tone is meant to tell him not to worry about it, because it's something that doesn't concern him.

He feels, though, some needles breaking his skin and his brain on fire again before his conscience drifts to blackness.

* * *

The next time that he wakes up, his handler isn't around.

Some of his memories are pulled to the foreground of his mind, while the rest seems to melt back. He remembers a mission. He is proud of that. He remembers his handler and the trainings – he likes knowing that he is the best. He also remembers pain, coming from his shoulder...

Only, when he turns, he realizes that the latest it's not a memory, there is a new man, touching his arm which makes him growl some of the shouts that he has heard from other assets in painful situations, and the scientist runs out of the room, his hands over his chest and screaming.

He has no idea of what he said, but he will try to remember the combination of words for the next time he finds someone messing with his arm. If it makes them run, then it's a good sentence, as far as he's concerned.

Quickly, another man enters the room, someone way more menacing than the small scientist. He doesn't tear his gaze from the man, he doesn't even blink. He's not afraid.

“Soldier, get ready to train after your arm has been inspected. If you attack the scientist, you'll regret it.” He has a deep voice and the threat feels very real – not like he cares much about anyone threatening him.

“Who are you?” He snaps, because he won't simply take an order from anyone.

“Your new handler, Soldier.”

He blinks and looks at the man again, examining him and stopping all his movement. If he didn't need more than a word from his last handler to accept it, _eventually_ , why now he feels like he needs an approval from the last, before moving on to this handler?

“What happened to... the other?” He asks, as he realizes he never knew his handler's name.

“War happened. You are still our best asset to win it. Prove it.” The man turns and leaves the room, the scientist entering again.

Half an hour later, he is back at the gym, hitting other soldiers with an arm that feels too heavy after the new scientist has changed some of its configuration. He is still better than all the others. A slightly malfunctioning arm is not enough to give the others an advantage over him.

* * *

He keeps being sent on the missions that are deemed too difficult for the others soldiers. After every mission, he is praised and taken back to the chair where he woke up the first time.

And almost every time, when he wakes up, his handler is someone different, or his handler has changed more than a night of sleep should grant.

When he sleeps on the chair, it's so very different to the times that he sleeps on a bed. He knows that he is important, and that he won't be killed easily but he also knows that he's only an asset, to be used at their convenience.

He is sure that the chair is a bit like the guns they gave him – something that could... _must_ be used against him if there's no other way to keep the new world that they are making safe.

The issue with the chair, though, it irks his mind, it's something that he doesn't quite forget when he wakes up, even if all his memories seem to be completely erased.

* * *

He's not stupid, though.

As soon as he starts noticing all the patterns in the change, he starts finding it easier to pull some memories after he has been sent to _sleep,_ even if others are completely gone.

The first thing that he starts thinking about when he develops some resistance to the drugs that they use to make him sleep and to make him forget... is how his new arm must be some kind of cosmic joke.

Whatever is going on – nothing good, sure, that's why he is being kept under drugs and so on – they didn't want him to find his soulmate but... _the joke's on them_ , because he doesn't have one. He never had one. They didn't need to cut his arm off. If they had only asked him, perhaps he could have kept his arm. He doesn't need... this.

He wraps the fingers of his new arm, feeling the strength of them, how fast they are. He can't completely reject his arm, though, because it's what makes him so special, what makes him the best asset. Isn't it?

He could kill all of this base and go out, escape. He could do it. Those men are nothing against him. He never does it, however. Why to escape, if he has nothing to run to? – and that thought? It feels too familiar.

So he stays. And he studies the people and the objects, he studies the changes in the language, at least in that words he can understand.

He waits and watches.

* * *

Suddenly, he notices a change in his background.

The base is no longer the same. Just by looking around, he knows that a long time has passed since the last time he was awake... or the world has changed in some other way that he can't understand. The language that he had half learnt listening to the other soldiers in the base changes for another one. His new handlers' accents are completely different, as well.

“We will make you better, Soldier. When you come, the world will know that the Winter hit them.”

Things are very different in this new base. He is taught the new language, using it in each and every occasion, so much that he almost forgets the language of his own mind. He is given clothes, standard issue but made for him. He is fed as much and as often as he needs it and his muscles start bulking up almost instantly.

Every day that passes, he finds it more and more comfortable.

They call themselves the Red Room. The scientists there are making experiments to create the perfect human being, and he is closer to that peak than anyone else, so they need to study him and the handlers need him to teach some new assets how should they fight.

He's their most precious asset.

He also goes on mission more often than before and he's not put out cold so often. He travels around the world to subdue the targets. He is more than an assassin – he doesn't like how that word sounds. He's a spy, like all the others around him. All his moves have some higher objective behind them.

Occasionally, he is sent to sleep – though this time it's on a small cell. The cell's air freezes every time he steps in, and he knows on some level that he is missing a couple of years here and there.

He likes the change, though. He's better here than he was before, wherever and whomever he was working with. The Red Room occasionally makes experiments on him – they do study his arm and his blood and he's injected with unknown experimental liquids – but he's still treated... like he matters, on a way more human way.

* * *

The first time that he sees Natalia, he knows that there is something wrong with her and that she will be his doom.

She is different from all the other spies that the Red Room has sent to be trained – there is something about her that unsettles him.

It's not anything in her features, she is tall for a woman but slim, even if the muscles of her thighs promise that she could break any man's neck, just like he knows she could do. She is very beautiful, so stunning that she'll have no problems bending any man to her will if she plays her hand correctly and so charming that she could wrap any woman around her finger.

There is something about her that makes her unforgettable, be it her bright green eyes or her full red lips and with a matching red hair, longer than anything he has seen before but tied in a way that promises not to be a trouble in the training. However, there is nothing in her appearance that justifies what he felt when he saw her.

He fears her.

It's not a feeling that he is used to. He sometimes fears the pain that comes with the chair if he does something wrong or the small cell that freezes the air around him until he can't breathe, but he has never feared something alive. No, he has never feared any person around him – be it a scientist, a target, a handler, an agent or a spy, not even the first time that he was put in front of the danger.

Why is she different?

* * *

She learns almost too quickly. She's the perfect trainee and she is feared by almost everyone at the base – though that sentiment doesn't make it better. When he asks about her, he gets told that she was the best novice ever at the _entrance tests_. That demonstrates some higher level of intelligence, pain resistance and such a superior capacity to fight.

He has seen all of these capacities, but he still doesn't know how to handle her.

Most of the Red Room's soldiers are incredibly boring, they all look like carbon copies of the others. Their sets of skills overlap way too often so, whenever he goes on team missions, he's always sent on missions with the handful of soldiers who are different – because he's better than those carbon copies at everything.

He starts being sent on missions with Natalia regularly, Natalia infiltrating there were his own skills are good for nothing. If there is a woman, he can easily make her agree to anything using his charm but if there is a man... then there is nothing he can do, as he is immediately considered as a threat by most of the men – save for those who also fall for his _devilish smile_.

Natalia, however, is able to charm anyone. She convinces them to give her the information their handlers need and then, only then, the Soldier disposes of their bodies in the best possible way. Natalia makes her own kills, too, but they are a nice team. He trusts her wholly and she seems to trust him as well.

If only she didn't make him so uneasy.

* * *

“You have it, don't you?” He asks when they are coming back from a mission. There are no hidden cameras or microphones anywhere. He has checked for them before he pulls this... it doesn't feel right to call it stunt, but he's really acting on a hunch. He's walking on thin ice.

She looks at him, trying to find a path to escape the room but he has chosen the space wisely, there are no escapes “I don't know what are you talking about.”

“Oh, but you do.” He grabs her left wrist with his metallic hand as she tries to pass through him, pulling her against him because if she leaves this conversation now, he knows that it will war between the two of them and she'll never trust him again “You have the bond.”

She freezes completely and he knows her well enough to know that she's planning a thousand ways to kill him. An unfortunate accident while coming back, that's all it takes.

However, he hugs her close, tucking his head over her shoulder and rocking her lightly, giving her all the advantage if she decides to kill him... and that seems to disable all her murderous thoughts.

“It's fine, Natalia, I'll never let them know it.” He whispers, still holding her close.

“How?” She whispers, her hands clutching his jacket, almost collapsing in his arms.

“I don't know.” He tilts his head down to look at her “I mean, I only started to think about it because something about you bothered me. None else fights as you. Why are you different...? And I realized. The bond. You fight for someone else.”

She is still holding onto him as some tears start to roll down her face, her face denoting how stressful the topic is for her. Literally, anyone discovering it could mean her death. And... she has someone. She could want to leave this shit, she could just decide that the world is fine as it is and run somewhere she could call home.

Between hushed whispers and sobs, she tells him how she has been feeling this pull since she was born but she had never told anyone and how far away she is from the origin of her pull. The people who had selected her thought that she was already too old, that she'd never feel the pull but... she does have a soulmate and she... she just wants... needs to meet them, some day. Even if just to tell them to forget about her and live their lives happily, because there is no way to run from the Red Room, unless you are dead.

“I'll protect you. I will help you in anything I can. I promise.” He kisses the top of her head, cuddling her as if she was a child until she stops crying, putting back her expressionless face. The one they all need to deal with the Red Room training without being murdered by someone else.

* * *

The next time that he sees a soldier touching Natalia's ass, he can't refrain himself from shoving the man against a wall, growling at him like a wild beast. He knows that Natalia can deal with all those men with ease, he has seen her doing it before, but he can't really avoid his own reaction.

He takes the man from the neck, ramming his head hard against the wall again “Don't touch what is not yours, asshole.”

Natalia touches his arm to make him drop the soldier, who seems about to pass out from the pressure on his neck. Reluctantly, he drops the man, if only to please Natalia, because he'd happily kill the guy and be done with the issue.

“Are you two together?” Another guy asks from behind them. He looks at her, giving her all the chance to say no, if that's what she'd prefer, even if it'd be so much easier to make them all back off with a simple yes.

Natalia turns to the others with a bright smile, her hands caressing his biceps, grabbing it lightly and carefully, just like a lover would do. “Of course.” She answers, still holding his arm, like daring everyone else in the room to say something about it.

None does, luckily, but he still has to beat down some guys harder at the trainings on the following days. He has never had to prove anything to any guy at the base, but he'll do whatever is needed to protect Natalia. He promised her to protect her, whatever it takes.

* * *

He becomes Natalia's shadow.

Women are a commodity on places likes this. When he's not training, he is watching her train. They eat together. Sometimes they disappear into other missions, but when they are together, nothing really puts them apart.

He never touches her, though, and that's starting to make some of the soldiers suspicious about their relationship and the nature of it. Natalia starts kissing him when they are in public and they end up sleeping together most of the nights. He sleeps on the couch, allowing her to sleep in the bed. He has slept a lot of nights at the chair before, and he knows that the lack of comfort does nothing to his muscles as long as his back is straight.

Maybe they would have been able to get away with that, but there's a group mission and everyone's eyes are zeroing on them.

It's Natalia the one who says that they have to do something else to push them off of their backs. It's not like he has never had sex before but there's something really uncomfortable about fucking a woman who belongs to someone else with five other guys listening behind a flimsy paper wall in a motel on their way to a mission. On their way to kill someone. A bunch of someones, actually.

He has never felt as uncomfortable before, but it's worth it as the soldiers stop looking at Natalia, both at the base and at the missions.

Yes, it's worth it.

* * *

His handlers send him new people to train.

They are nothing like Natalia and most of them break when they begin to be enhanced. Sometimes, the healing factor goes on reverse and the assets die because of minor wounds, bleeding out through them. Sometimes, it's the mind training what they can't resist. Someone puts them off, then.

The search for the superhuman has taken a lot of... he'd say _victims_ , but they are really not. Most of them are willingly here... or they have accepted it, as he did before. Because when life gives you lemons, be glad it did and make lemonade, or save them for the winter or whatever you wanna do, just don't cry because of the lemons; there are people who has nothing at all.

He has no compassion left to share for this people, he has enough with taking care of Natalia and taking care of himself.

* * *

Budapest is a hell on its own.

Their mission starts to crumble from the beginning, with the target being defended by another organization. He doesn't know much about it, but Natalia is quick to brief him about Shield. She has gained a contact inside the organization, a guy who was spying on behalf of their target. Instead of killing her, this guy, Hawkeye, has engaged in conversation with her. He has gone as far as to offer her a spot in Shield.

“He's decent.” She says, nudging him to come with her and meet the guy “If you saw him, you'd know that he's a decent person. And he believes in whatever Shield is doing.”

“I believed in the Red Room, too.” He answers, sharpening his knifes and avoiding looking at Natalia. She's leaving, whatever he says, and he's happy about it but now his mind has gone into self-preservation mode. He'll have to deal with the backlash. It's the first time that he has been out of the ice for so long and he is starting to appreciate his survival again.

“It's different.”

“I sure hope it is, Natalia.” He puts his knife on the holder, getting another one to do the same.

“He has offered a place for you too.” His head snaps at her, suddenly worried about what could have she said to that unknown agent “No, I only told him that I have a partner I trust in the KGB and that perhaps you'd also want a way out. I haven't told him who you are.”

“Good.” He mutters, turning his head to his knifes again. He was holding it too tight, his knuckles have gone white in seconds.

“Who are you, really?”

He puts the knife away and stands up, leaving the room like he hadn't heard Natalia. They both know that it's not the case but she won't mention it.

When he comes back to the room ten minutes later, the wall on the back door of the apartment has an hole of the exact shape of a hand.

“Get ready, we have a mission.”

The Danube reflects all the lights of the city around it. Its waters seem as deep and black as the night around them. It should be a beautiful, calm night.

His mission is walking out of a restaurant. He fires his rifle, but an agent comes from out of nowhere and pulls the man down. The shot hits the target on the shoulder, instead of the heart as it was intended to.

“Out, now.” He grunts, pulling Natalia down with him to avoid all the bullets that will come through their window in no time.

* * *

Soon, Natalia and he are running, trying to escape from those Shield's agents. He throws a couple of grenades over his shoulder, getting both the enemy agents and their cars. He doesn't stop to watch the destruction, he just keeps running, Natalia by his side.

“Widow!” An agent shouts in front of them, gesturing for her to go with him. He has a bow and arrows, for God's sake, how is he any better than any Red Room's agent? How's he not dead?

But he's not, and he's Natalia's ticket to freedom.

“Go.” He ushers her, seeing how she's frozen between him and the agent.

“You'll be fine?” She asks, looking back at him. She's an hero, he knows as much.

“Run!” He shouts, somehow quietly, as he picks his rifle and turns the other way, drawing all the agents with his shots but the one who is keen on rescuing Natalia. She deserves a chance to escape, she deserves to meet her soulmate.

The situation feels way too familiar.

* * *

When he's coming back to the base, all that he sees is white and he can hear the wind in his ears; even if nothing is moving. The train doesn't sound like it should.

He closes his eyes and tries to forgets the memories he doesn't remember, it'll be good for nothing anyway.

All the eyes turn to him as soon as he crosses the door.

The handler of this mission has been found dead on the field, the target has escaped alive and Natalia hasn't come back _yet_. She won't come back and they know him as well as he does.

They are waiting, thought.

They have lost their second best – or perhaps their best – asset and now to find justice they are going to lose the other too. It's logical they aren't eager.

A new handler quickly judges him: Back to the cell.

When he gets to his cell, he knows that he won't be seeing the light soon and that his memories will be thoroughly wiped before he's back. But she is safe with that agent – they must already have arrived to the USA – away from them and nicely tucked into one of the most powerful organizations of the world. The Red Room won't ever put a finger on her again.

It doesn't matter then if he's frozen for some years, does it?

* * *

“Welcome home, Soldier.” A man with blonde hair tells him, much less impressive than the kind of handler that he's gotten used to but, at the same time, his eyes promise that he's way more lethal than anyone he met before “We need again you to become the armed fist of Hydra, to help us shape a new world.”

He nods, stepping out of the cell and looking at the background, trying to understand all the instruments that he has never seen before. This time, he knows it, he has spent years under the ice of his cell, the world has really changed while he was off.

He doesn't know how should he answer to that, so he stays silent, trying to recall anything from the last time he woke up. He really can't, all his memories are slipping away before he catches them.

“We'll start exactly where we left it off. Get ready to train, Soldier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to stick to Natasha's MCU's timeline but... her timeline differs so much from comics and the MCU that I've finished with quite a headache here. If you spot anything out of order, poke me and I'll try to correct it.


	6. Tony

Whatever Father says, he's not a stupid kid.

To start with, he knows more than enough to not to mention anything about his pull to his father – not at any time or at any occasion and especially not when his father has been drinking something. _And_ he knows better than asking why his arm always feels so cold.

He has, though, heard the TV shows that his mother adores about the high society and their bonds, sitting with her and pretending not to be interested; he has eavesdropped on some conversations that Aunt Peggs and Father have about Captain America; and he has even dared to ask Jarvis what does he feel towards his wife and how does the bond makes itself known, under the pretence of understanding how the bond works. Jarvis might have understood what he was really asking, but...

No. By the time he is four and Father kicks him out of the lab after creating his own engine, just because it is different from all the engines Father ever created, he knows better than to mention that his bond is broken, that it doesn't function as it should.

He knows what his answer would be: ' _you can't make anything right, not even that_. '

* * *

He is sent to a boarding school as soon as he's tall enough to reach a table on his own.

He has heard Father yelling that otherwise he will never be a man, because he gets attached to whomever is visiting, that he is sentimental like a little girl. Mother does nothing to deny it, Mother doesn't ask Father to let him stay.

He has to make some tests before he is accepted but he does them so well that he is placed a couple of years over his age. The teachers always treat him... good enough, like all the people who has ever come invited to his house. He's the favourite for almost all the teachers and he likes them so he's fine with the adults. But he has to share a living with a bunch of kids who are almost twice as tall as him, who are always ignoring him or trying to make fun of him and he can't escape from them.

It doesn't really matter, though. He's too clever for them. He always finds something the other kids want in exchange for leaving him alone, or something that they truly want to gain a favour from them. Actually, he always has a guy or two that owe him favours, so he's safe from all the bullies. It's not so terribly different from being at home.

In fact, it's better, because those kids are just kids.

Their words don't hurt even a fraction of how much it hurts when Father yells. And, at least, here he can learn some things about topics that were forbidden or forgotten at home. Like the bond.

Most of the kids haven't felt anything yet, but some of them have always felt the pull, just like him. Their sensations are completely different from his own, so he doesn't tell anything here either, but it is the first time that he really gets a proof of the dysfunctionality of his bond.

He also learns that his house is dysfunctional but, well, it's not like the kids around him have better houses. They are all here for a reason.

It shouldn't be so but, truth to be told, he only misses Jarvis, aunt Peggs and the laboratory.

* * *

The day when he realizes that he's more broken than he ever thought is one of the days in which Aunt Peggy comes to take care of him. One of these weird days when he is at home.

He is seven. He has just finished making himself a radio, because he wants to be able to catch the baseball or the hockey or just any sport, really, whatever it is that gives him something to talk about with the other kids at school, because when they get into that kind of topics he never knows what to answer and it always makes him feel uninvited.

A couple of years back, when he was shipped to the school, he discovered that without Father around he works faster and better, so any days alone at home are a blessing that he will not waste, even if Peggy is at home with him. He simply can't work with the gaze of his father cutting through his mind, making him feel completely worthless because he's not perfect.

Aunt Peggs, however... he jumps to the couch where she is reading a magazine, quickly pushing it off of her lap to lay his head there, leaving his feet out of the armrest because he is wearing shoes. The last thing he'd want is to bother Jarvis or any of the maids into cleaning after him. They are nice, so he shouldn't give them any extra work because he is lazy.

“Aunt Peggs?” It has always been his way to start the conversation, he doesn't really know what else could he say.

“Yes, darling?” She caresses his head and he almost purrs as her fingers thread through his curls. It's good to be touched like this.

“Why do you never go with Father to look for your boyfriend?” She looks sad as he makes the question and he almost regrets having said anything. He can't have aunt Peggs hating him. He'd be... he'd just have Jarvis.

“First of all, my dear, I am married now. I don't have any boyfriend and Steve was never my boyfriend.” She pauses and he accepts that part of the scolding, used to harsher words. He's curious enough to want to get the full explanation and he notices that he really needs to know all the differences between those concepts. Peggy is the only one who ever explains him anything, so he might as well start asking. “He was my soulmate. And because he was, I know that he's not alive.”

“How can you know that?” His left arm itches, like there was something inside that he needed to take out. It's the regular sensation, it's just like... a weight. Sometimes it makes him wonder if his arm is asleep but then he moves his fingers and realizes that no, his arm is working perfectly. It's his bond.

“The bond is not alive, my dear.” She says very softly, caressing his head again.

Pieces start to fit in his mind in a flash. It's like he had been turning around the pieces of a puzzle, because he had never received the guide picture, but now he has seen a glimpse of the image... and it all makes sense. He sits up with a start, like he had just woken up from a nightmare.

“Oh.” the sound escapes from his lips, he is too stunned to hold it down.

Peggy seems to be frozen for a second before she pulls him to herself and hugs him tight “Oh, Tony...” He hugs her back like he had never needed anything as much before.

He has never needed something as much before, in fact.

His soulmate... is dead. There will be no happy ending. He'll never have someone who is truly his, he'll never have someone who he can aspire to understand fully... He has never known how important this was, not until he has faced the horrible truth.

* * *

Days later, he is sent back to the boarding school after an accident at the laboratory. There is now a small but blistering scar in his left wrist, an accident with the welding torch. The lab is much worse, because he almost set everything on fire, Jarvis was quick to put the fire off but the tables are scorched and Tony's left eyebrow has vanished.

According to the adults around him, he's not the same. They ask him if something has happened over the break, if he is fine after the accident or if he's scared. He doesn't really understand their questions because the accident hasn't changed anything for him, it has been something else... He simply doesn't know how to explain that all his life has gotten broken... so caught in between getting depressed or acting boisterous to hide how fucked up he feels, he chooses the second.

The other kids start introducing him to their games and troubles. He quickly becomes a troublemaker. He may not always be the teachers' favourite but, in general, it's much better than it was before.

_Only, it isn't._

* * *

Years pass.

Some of them pass too quickly and during other years he is too aware of everything happening to him and he just wants to sit down and cry. He never breaks down, though. He is a _Stark_. He is better than that. Stark men are made of iron and nothing will make him bend his head.

He is a teenager who is getting ready to go to university, to study a degree at the M.I.T.

There is some people he is always happy to see: Peggy – he's too old to call her aunt and no way he will call her as Godmother, God already gave him one mother and it was a total failure – and Jarvis are the only adults he can talk to when he becomes a teenager. It's only in the summer or winter breaks, because of the schools he has been sent to.

There are some people he is less than happy to see, as they make his life a constant hell: His mother has been a failure, a constant source of disappointment since he was a baby, because somehow he always trusted her to make things better, to make their home a better place for him and she never did. His father... for God's sake, he has troubles using that name for Howard. It's not a father, he is just the person who created him but he never wanted to have to care of Tony, so he has lost his rights to be called as father.

Most of the people around him, following Howard's line of thought, thinks that he has gone wild and that something has gone wrong in his education, but...

What else could you expect from a kid who has nothing?

He just wants to experience a flick of happiness, he needs to feel that he is alive. Even if his bond is not.

* * *

University is something altogether different.

He makes his first friend. Rhodey sticks around even though Tony gives him nothing but headaches, Rhodey gets him drinks at clubs and they sneak around together.

Rhodey is everything Tony ever wanted and if he feels like he loves his friend a bit too much, none is going to complain because Tony's soulmate is dead. Rhodey laughs off at Tony's attempts of flirting but, in return, gives him better ideas and better pick up lines to try on the girls around the campus.

Some of the girls start falling for his charm on his second year and he is included in all the parties by his third. He enjoys it. He enjoys it all, okay, he adores watching people fall for him and adore him like he is a God. He is rich, he is handsome, he is intelligent and he is sorts of perfect.

He graduates at the end of his third year and he has partied more than anyone else on the campus.

Coming back home with all his precious work about AIs to start working on something huge, something that will change the world, is blocked by Howard, who is too upset about his choices in life.

“ _Your soulmate will never want you, you, fucking kid. A moment of fun will ruin your life forever._ ”

He doesn't cry.

No, he does not.

The streaks on his cheeks are nothing but rain.

A summer rain as he is sitting on the roof outside his room, thinking about his broken heart, his broken bond and how none will ever want him.

Yes, it's nothing but the rain.

* * *

Next morning, he asks Jarvis to go with him for a trip. He doesn't say where and his parents most definitely don't ask where is he going. He also realizes that Jarvis knows exactly where are they going and what are they going to do, without needing to say a word.

“Young master, are you sure you want to do this?” Jarvis asks, when they are stepping into the private jet in New York.

“I live for regrets, Jarv.” He smiles, self-deprecating, and Jarvis knows perfectly how to read that smile because he actually scowls at Tony. It makes Tony remember that he's worth for some people, that Jarvis loves him somehow. And he loves Jarvis as much. “I just need to know for sure.” He completes his sentence, hastily, because he doesn't want Jarvis worrying for him.

Jarvis nods, following him into the jet and drops totally the subject, just like he had never asked.

They land in London hours later.

Tony knows that it is not the correct place to find his soulmate even before the plane touches the ground, but he can't exactly ask the pilot to turn in the same moment they land, so he stays there for a couple of days, sightseeing. The city is huge and it's the first time that he's here without having to follow his parents around from a meeting to a party and to a meeting again.

It's an extraordinarily fun place, with lots of things to do and a lot of new beers to taste. He also may or may not have spent the two nights partying, hitting on anyone who would believe that he is overage. The legal age in UK is just one year over his actual age and he can totally pass as someone who is eighteen. He actually has fun at the clubs, even if Jarvis tells him in the morning that he shouldn't have done so.

It's not the objective of his trip, Jarvis gently reminds him, so he goes back on track.

He decides to go to France, then. It's closer to the origin of his pull, or so it seemed from London, because as soon as he lands in Paris he knows that the pull is almost as away as it was before. It's not as fun because he can't talk to anyone there, almost none speaks English.

Actually, he is miserable for the few hours that they stay there, and the only thing that he carries from Paris is a box of chocolates. He thinks about gifting it to Peggy when they'll come back to the States, but he ends up eating the chocolates in a fit of boredom while waiting for the jet to take off.

Monaco is the next stop. It's not that it isn't a great place, it is, but he is getting nervous and anxious. He needs to arrive to his pull, because it's much closer but... it's kinda curious because now he has gone too far south and when he looks at the map... The Alps.

The fucking Alps.

For the first time in his life, he gets hopeful, because maybe his bond is cold because... mountains and shit? Maybe it's just... someone too poor to travel, too busy taking care of their cows or whatever the fuck they do in the mountains. Whatever they do, they don't get much heat up there, right?

He grasps his shirt, right over his heart, as the plane lands again, this time in Zürich.

“We're going hiking.” He tells to Jarvis and Jarvis just hugs him and kisses his forehead. It's way too comforting and it gives him the courage to take the next step of his travel. It's also the last, because he will find whatever it is he is looking for tomorrow.

His soulmate is near. It's so close that he feels light-headed and he can't stop moving in the co-pilot seat of the car as he guides Jarvis through the mountains, feeling how his bond is closer and closer but never getting hotter.

His bond is not changing at all, it's not reacting, and he feels like crying by the time that Jarvis pulls the car and opens the door for him, because the road is over and they have to walk now. When Jarvis tells him that they have even crossed the frontier, he doesn't pay much attention.

His feet are guiding him. He doesn't think about where is he going... he doesn't want to think about it.

Tears start covering his face when he enters a clearing in the forest, none else on sight, and by the time that his bond pulls him down right under a tree he doesn't see anything but blurring images in brown and green.

It's all so fucking green while his heart is shattering.

It's all so idyllic while his life feels gone.

He digs his fingers in the ground, stopping only when he grabs the origin of his pull.

The bones are cold.

Just like his bond.

* * *

When he wakes up, he is back in the jet and they are ready to take off. Jarvis doesn't say anything but the hug makes up for anything else.

There's not too much to say when someone loses their soulmate...

… and there's definitely nothing to say when they were never there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help, I have broken my own heart writing this *hugs Tony tight*


	7. Tony II

When he comes back to America, it seems that everything has changed but... nothing has really changed, has it? Howard makes him take a spot in Stark Industries and start working immediately after his trip. It's not like he wants to tell his father what has happened overseas, and he is confident that Jarvis won't break his trust by telling anyone. There is no hope, but there never was.

From nine to five, he works at the office's workshop, getting ready new blueprints for the company. He doesn't get to mourn but... he has been mourning all his life, hasn't he?

He starts spending more and more nights out of the mansion and it _isn't_ _always_ having sex with strangers. He can't stand the atmosphere at the old mansion anymore, something in the air eats his brain whenever he stops there.

Sometimes, he simply crashes at Peggy's, getting comfort in her arms just like he did when he was a child. They watch TV and chit-chat and it's almost like she wasn't so much older than him. Or maybe he is much more mature than he should. She is the only other person who knows it, apart from Jarvis.

He hides in the work while working his ass off, trying to make things better between Howard and he, although he knows that nothing he could do would make his father _see him_ , actually look past whatever he thinks about Tony. There was never a chance to reunite the family but, fuck, he tries. He tries and he tries and his heart falters every time that he fails.

At least, he makes Obadiah proud, everything he does to try to make his father proud makes millions in the company.

So he works and works... during weekdays.

* * *

Rhodey is still in the M.I.T., completing his last year before graduation. He has a fast car and nothing better to do, really, so he ends up driving up to three hours – usually it's less, much less – on most of the weekends' nights to get to party with his old classmates.

It's not like he misses anyone but Rhodey, but the people there knows him and knows that he likes the big parties, and drinking, and they quickly make him discover something better than alcohol. Worse. Something worse, actually, but it does feel better.

He's eighteen and he is the star at the parties, he is the heart of all the parties of the State. He has money to buy anything they want and the girls adore him. If he felt like a God before, now he knows that he is one.

He is dancing over a couch, trying to take off his t-shirt when Rhodey grabs him by his wrists to make him unable to run and presses him against the couch. Some sensible part of his mind reckons that Rhodey is being gentle, but he still feels like his heart will run out of his chest. He is high, seriously high, and his brain is working at a thousand miles per hour because everything in this situation – being trapped – screams _danger_.

“Tony, what happened to you? I hardly recognize you.” Rhodey's voice is loud enough for him to listen, even though he can't focus on the words.

“No.” He answers, even if it doesn't make any sense, still trying to get away from Rhodey.

“The last time I saw you, you were a kid who flirted with anyone for the sake of doing it. You drank but it was because you were bored and you wanted to have fun.” Rhodey's face is getting closer and the voice sounds harder than he ever heard it. Worse, he can't avoid the eyes that look at him with a level of caring and preoccupation he hasn't seen in anyone but Jarvis and Peggy. “I don't recognize the man you are today. You are squirmish and the face that you show to the world is just a lie. I know you. Who do I have to kill, Tony? Who broke your heart?”

“Dead.” He blurts out, giving up all the fight and allowing himself to be gently cradled by Rhodey.

“Who...?” Rhodey asks, too surprised by his surrender to understand the implications, if just for a second, just the moment Tony needs to start crying, hugging Rhodey like his life depended on it. “Oh. Tony, I am so sorry...”

Rhodey ends up hauling him, up to the point of Rhodey carrying him in a piggy ride the few blocks from the party to his old apartment, Tony's arm constantly wrapped around him.

* * *

 

He keeps working hard for a couple of years, trying to learn everything about the company and he quickly becomes Obadiah's right hand, even though Howard completely cuts him out because his face is getting more often than not in the cover news for things non company related.

Okay, maybe after the night he spent in jail the journalists are totally right to follow him around, because he does interesting things on his nights out. Brawls, getting drunk while being underage, drugs and, on top of that, his sexuality and the one night stands.

It's not like anyone in the world cares about which way you swing for your soulmate, because that's the way it was meant to be anyway, but ending up in anyone's bed, with people _who aren't yours_ and not having any standard for them? It's more than enough to make Howard scrunch his nose every time that someone mentions Tony in his presence.

Sometimes he thinks that his assistant (because, of course, Obadiah insisted in hiring an assistant for him) suspects something about the true reasons behind his behaviour but she never really says anything and it's enough to show that she knows it, because she's not shy at all.

She's just a couple of years older than him. She doesn't look older than him at all, she's so beautiful, so naïve and so precious, with her long strawberry hair and clear blue eyes. She has a perfect smile and she's so damn professional that he starts saying dumb things to the press from time to time just to see her get in the super polite mode to rescue him.

What he likes the most about her, though, is how she speaks to him. She's one of the few people who can use their mind as quickly as he does, they exchange information almost like they read each others' minds.

Virginia. He is quick to rename her, marking her as his, just like he did with Rhodey.

She is efficient, she is his safe net where he cannot fail. She is safe and trustworthy. With Pepper working next to him, he can start forgetting things that are superficial – as meetings and paperwork – to focus on what is important, even in those things that none but him see how important are.

And he can also forget the world to work on his AI. It has to be perfect. It has to be a mix of all the people that he loves. Jarvis and Peggy, Rhodey and Pepper. And even a bit of Obadiah. To be honest, it's mostly Jarvis but, over everything else, his AI will learn to be his own person in time.

The companion to make up for the one he'll never have.

* * *

It's right then, when he has almost completed his job, that his parents die in a car accident.

Jarvis tells him when he steps into the mansion one late Saturday morning. Friday night had been his usual. Drink, fuck, drink more. Obadiah had tried to make him go to the gala with his parents and he had agreed into going, but on Thursday he had argued with Howard, something harsh enough as to make him quickly change his plans for Friday.

He doesn't even remember what they argued about.

It's almost fun. If Howard hadn't been the ass he always is, now he would be dead with them.

Or maybe no. With his luck, maybe he would have survived. With his luck, he would have survived and he'd have been crippled forever. Well, forever until he invented some machine to make up for his disability. But... anyway.

Maybe, if Howard hadn't been an ass for his whole life and if Maria hasn't enabled that behaviour, he'd be devastated as he knows he should. As devastated as Jarvis is. Perhaps he would have cried when he heard the news.

He knows that he should feel something about the death of his parents, something that isn't resentment. But he actually doesn't, no matter how hard he tries to find any other feeling.

No, it's not like he cares much about it, save for the obvious reasons. Like, now he has a company to manage. A fucking multimillionaire company that will waste all his time, that will fight his creativity because he will have to complete all the projects that Howard never finished. The Board will force him to do that, or he'll lose the control over everything.

Obadiah takes the public part of the funeral, luckily. He's too far gone to care, and if he shows up is because he has drunk a lot, enough make him follow Jarvis when he leaves the mansion to go to the funeral.

He sits there, watching how they lower the bodies to the ground and he almost breaks out laughing. Everyone is saying that they are sorry, when he can't feel anything about it.

Yeah, it's funny.

When they come back, the mansion feels too empty. It's too big for just Jarvis, his wife Anna and he. But Jarvis likes the old mansion, so they stay.

Jarvis is the father he never had in Howard.

* * *

When Obadiah offers it, Tony gladly allows him to manage the company until he is twenty one.

He works from the mansion now, taking up the workshop where Howard never allowed him to work. It's a kind of petty revenge but it feels good.

The place is filled with maps and plans to find _Captain America_. That's the thing that always kept him too busy to rise his child, the important mission for the sake of humanity. If some day someone finds _Cap_ , it will also feel like another petty revenge, because Howard was never able to find him, no matter how hard he tried.

The back room is filled with the work of the latest Stark Expo, right before the war. There's that damn hoovering car that Howard loved to show off when he was a baby. Useless thing that always fell.

He wants to throw it all away but he contents himself with simply locking away everything, exchanging Howard's stuff for his own tools. Dum-E gets the task to keep the workshop clean, and even if accidents occur, he's a great AI and he soon gets a bot _sibling_.

Because, yes, they are totally his kids. Dum-E and You.

His joy and pride, even if he is missing something bigger to be complete.

He's... if not happy, at least content.

* * *

Happiness doesn't last long. Anna gets ill and dies quickly, nothing the doctors make is enough to make her recover.

Jarvis follows her shortly after. It's a matter of days.

It's the most painful thing he has ever witnessed.

They are buried together. The Jarvis' funeral makes it to the second spot in the list of his worst days ever. And Jarvis was everything holding him in the first, so it makes him even bitterer.

So bitter that Peggy's hugs can't make him feel any better. So bitter, that her hugs only make him feel worse, because when he looks at her, he sees how much both of them have lost.

It hurts too much.

He doesn't know how Peggy has survived losing her soulmate, half of her friends and even her husband. Peggy's heart is much stronger than his will never be, because he can't take losing one of his people.

He shuts the mansion and flees to Malibu, as away as he can get from New York. The only things he takes from the mansion, before closing its doors forever, are Dum-E and You.

The only thing he takes from New York is the company. He finally gets around to sit and work for it. To manage the company. There's nothing else for him to do, anyway.

* * *

Malibu is nice for a while. _Just A Rather Very Intelligent System_ gets wired into his mansion as soon as it's completed. It's not perfect yet but he's no longer alone. His AI follows him around the house, monitoring everything for him. Taking care of him. And it's never cold in Malibu so he can almost forget the weight of his dead bond. _Almost_.

Malibu has other perks. The ambient is totally different from New York. The schedule fits him better. Everyone seems to be less serious and less stressed than in New York.

Most of what he does nowadays are parties and awards.

There are also the days and nights holed up in his workshop, not thinking about anything else but the project in his hands. Those are better than everything else.

He has more awards than he'd care to count – he has started giving them away to the first person he sees after the awards' ceremonies, if he cares enough as to attend. The parties are all the same, night after night, they all feel the same.

Scandals also follow him, but he doesn't particularly care if his public image gets damaged by something he wants to do, now that there's none to chastise him.

He flies from continent to continent, giving speeches and attending to conventions for all the matters that let him shine as the genius he is.

The company is working better than ever.

It's easy to lose the count of the years like that.

He feels empty and nothing can change that feeling.

* * *

Some people judges him as unable to build any human relationship, as an egoistical creature. Selfish and shallow, unable to care about anyone or anything. Inhuman. Like the journalist from last night. The one from Brown.

It's just jealousy, he tells himself.

It must be, because even when he's about to pass out he's better than all the others. They can't build anything as he can. They can't understand even a small part of his work.

He is a genius, the master of the weapons.

He creates smarter weapons, he creates robots that help with anything a human can't – or won't – do, he has created satellites that protect their country. He is the patriot who has led a new era, who has changed the world, even though some people won't recognize his value.

He doesn't mind being called the Merchant of Death, because he is protecting all those who are too stupid to see that without him, without his company and his weapons, America would be lost in another war. One that they would lose. And millions of lives would be lost without him.

He has privatized world peace and offered it to his country. Like he has now with the Jericho.

A missile that can make any walls fall down. The name was proposed by Jarvis as he was talking to himself while giving the last touches to his creation. It's the best missile ever created, the biggest advance since the atomic bomb.

With a piece like that, peace is granted. It only needs a little presentation.

He has the world at his feet and he is adored by most.

If others won't see it, it's not his fault and he won't care about it.

_The sad truth is, though, that he cares too much and loves too deeply. And maybe Jarvis was the only one to ever understand that completely._

* * *

As he always does when he does when he wakes up too early, he is fixing his vintage cars. Not like there's anything to fix, but he likes talking to Jarvis and tinkering with the cars, trying to improve them, music blasting through the speakers.

“Please don't turn down my music.” He says without turning to see who it is, because the only person who ever enters the workshop is Pepper.

“You are supposed to be halfway around the world right now.” She says, sighing.

“How'd she take it?” He asks, pointing lightly his screwdriver in the general direction of his room.

“Like a champ.”

“Then why are you trying to hustle me out of here?” He pulls a piece out of the engine, looking at it closely like he didn't give a damn about what Pepper is saying. He's just antagonising, for the sake of doing it.

“Your flight was scheduled to leave an hour and a half ago.” Pepper is starting to sound upset, even if that doesn't break her professionalism.

“That's funny, I thought with it being my plane and all, that it would just wait for me to get there.”

“Tony, I need to speak to you about a couple things before I get you out of the door.”

He knows he has won that battle when she shakes her head and changes the topic, but he keeps pressing it just to distract her. Maybe she forgets that he has to go to Afghanistan “Doesn't it kind of defeat the whole purpose of having your own plane if it departs before you arrive?”

She isn't deterred from her objective, though “Larry called. He's got another buyer for the Jackson Pollock in the wings. Do you want it? Yes or no.”

“Is it a good representation of his spring period?”

“No. The Springs was actually the neighbourhood in East Hampton where he lived and worked, not 'spring' like the season.”

“So?” He knew that, actually, but he always likes to see Pepper get exasperated about his choices. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't.

“I think it's a fair example. I think it's incredibly overpriced.” She answers, sensible as always.

He has already decided that he wants the Pollock, and the item being overpriced? Well, he is one of the richest people in the world, he can surely take the cost. “I need it. Buy it. Store it.”

She rolls her eyes but keeps talking “Okay. The MIT commencement speech...”

He wakes up and starts walking, still trying to distract her “Is in June. Please, don't harangue me about stuff that's way, way, down...”

“They're haranguing me, so I'm gonna say yes.” Her voice follows him across the workshop, she is really impossible to distract.

“Deflect it and absorb it. Don't transmit it back to me.”

“I need you to sign this before you get on the plane.”

“What are you trying to get rid of me for?” He asks, taking the paper from her and signing it “What, you got plans?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“I don't like it when you have plans.” He says frankly, the first heartfelt thing since he asked her not to lower his music ever again.

“I'm allowed to have plans on my birthday.” She answers with a smile. She's precious. So precious that she kills his neurons just with a smile. If she didn't have a pull, he'd make her his queen.

“It's your birthday?” He asks, dumbfounded.

“Yes.” She quickly confirms, still smiling.

“I knew that.” He quickly answers “Already?”

“Yeah. Isn't that strange?” She seems about to burst up laughing now “It's the same day as last year.”

“Get yourself something nice from me.”

“I already did.”

“And?” He rises an eyebrow, curious about what a woman like her can get for herself.

“Oh, it was very nice.” She confirms, nodding her head lightly. “Very tasteful. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

“You're welcome, Miss Potts.” He answers, leaving the signed paper in her hands and hopping into one of his cars to call Happy. Race to the airport!

* * *

“What's wrong with you?” Rhodey shouts at him as soon as he gets close to the stair of the plane.

“What?” He asks, although he knows perfectly what he did.

“Three hours.” Rhodey keeps shouting, and it'd be terrifying if he didn't know Rhodey.

“I got caught doing a piece for Vanity Fair.” It's not a lie, not really. She'll publish something, that's sure.

“For three hours. For three hours you got me standing here.” And yes, Rhodey seems ready to rip him a new one.

“Waiting on you now. Let's go. Come on.” He jokes, and he dares patting Rhodey's pectoral in his way into the jet “Wheels up! Rock and roll!”

* * *

He gets in the other humvee just to give Rhodey some space, to allow him to calm down and to allow him to forget the hurtful words at the plane, even if Rhodey won't see either that he's doing it for Rhodey's own good.

Tony is more than able to recognize when he's getting to the limit of his best friend's patience – to anyone's patience, really, even if he usually doesn't care enough to make anything about it –, and this morning overall was a really close call. Closer than he'd dare to risk in regards to Rhodey.

So it's whiskey, music and the road... in fucking silence, because the soldier aren't talking to him. So yeah, he's staring out of the window. Oh, a man walking a goat. Okay, why none is commenting on the man walking a goat?

This calls for drastic measures. So he does what he does best. He piques the soldiers to make them talk to him, first going for insults and then giving them the information they crave to know. Gossip and flattery. The kind of small talk that makes him earn everyone's hearts in a moment.

And then with a blink the moment is gone.

A explosion.

The soldiers leaving the humvee, leaving him inside. The soldiers dying. He runs out of the car, trying to hide between the rocks because nothing he could do would improve the situation.

He tries to make a call, to talk to Obadiah, to anyone, but...

… a missile.

One of _his_ missiles.

He clutches his heart, knowing that it's a lost battle. No bulletproof vest will stop the shrapnel coming from his missiles.

He is sent back in the air and when he hits the ground he loses his breath... but he doesn't quite get it back. He opens his shirt when he feels the blood pooling underneath the vest.

He's dead. There's no way to survive this. He's surprised and it hurts too much, but he can't find himself to feel... whatever he was supposed to feel now. Scared? But no, he isn't. And the only thing he regrets is that he hasn't spent time with Peggy in the last years.

Death is like an old friend by now. He closes his eyes and does his best to stop thinking, for the first – and last – time in his life.

_Over and out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tony gets another part, which will go a little further than Iron Man.
> 
> If nothing changes, there will be five chapters more (four and an epilogue, actually [Tony III, Natasha, Steve, Bucky II and the epilogue, also from Bucky's _POV_ ]). Bucky II and the epilogue are already written. Happy endings are set on stone *throws confetti*


End file.
